SG1 Alphabet Series
by M H E Priest
Summary: The K offering in this mostly unrelated series: SG-1 has some suggestions for names for Cassie's dog.
1. A is for Apophis

**A is for Apophis**

Time Frame: After _The Serpent's Lair_

Jack picked up his fork and gently tapped it several times on the freshly opened bottle of beer before him. "How about we hoist our drinks in a few toasts, eh, kids?"

"Forgive me, O'Neill, but why would one seek to perform such a feat using slices of bread browned by an electrical device?"

Daniel hid his smile behind his wine glass while Sam hid hers behind her hand and a fake cough. This left Jack to explain.

"Different kind of toast, my alien friend. The kinda toast I'm talkin' about is a way to pay tribute to something you feel strongly about. Like when a couple gets married. You toast to their future happiness."

"Ah, yes. We have a similar tradition on Chu'lak. For the newly married, we wish them many children so they may serve the gods' children." The edge of the Jaffa's mouth twisted sinisterly. "That is a tradition that I hope will soon be no more."

"Amen to that. To the children of Chu'lak growing up free of snakehead children!" Jack said enthusiastically as he raised his bottle as high as he could over the coffee table.

"Here, here!" said Daniel. He touched his glass to Jack's bottle.

"Got that right," Sam said. Her bottle of Diet Coke joined theirs.

A satisfied smile slowly spread over Teal'c's face. He raised his glass of grape juice until it touched the others. "Indeed."

"Now, we all take a sip of our . . . drink, Teal'c. If you agree with the sentiment, of course."

Teal'c inclined his head regally and sipped along with the others.

"Anyone else have one?"

"I do!"

"Go for it, Carter."

"To Catherine and Ernest."

"Hey, I was gonna toast them!"

"Daniel. Play nice. So, to Catherine and Ernest it is."

Glasses clinked and sips were taken.

"To General Hammond," said Daniel without any prompting.

"Good one!" Together, they repeated their leader's name.

More clink and drink.

"To Master Bra'tac!" Clink and drink.

"To Stephen Hawking!" A pause, then a few agreeing mumbles, then clink and drink.

"To Howard Carter!"

"Any relation to. . .?"

"No-no-no. At least I don't think so."

"I don't think he's on my family tree, sir."

"I was unaware your family dwelled in a tree, CaptainCarter."

"I'll explain later, Teal'c."

"He was an Egyptologist, Jack."

"Well, why didn't you say so? To Indiana Jones!"

"Howard Carter."

"Yeah, and him, too." Clink and drink.

"To bockey and haseball!"

"O'Neill, have you imbibed too much fermented liquid grain?"

"Could be." Laughter preceded the clink and drink.

"To family."

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, his jovial mood gone at Teal'c's tribute. What family, he thought. I'm responsible for destroying mine.

He felt three pairs of eyes looking at him expectantly. He was the only one who hadn't raised his glass. "I'll drink to that," he said quietly.

They clinked and drank, this time a bit more somber.

"To absent friends." The words came from Jack's throat as a tight whisper.

Now the mood was dark and introspective. Each person around the table turned inward to remember all those people who were like family they had lost over the years to sickness, injury, war.

"Indeed."

"Amen."

"We'll never forget."

Their glasses lingered together, touching, over the table, their eyes focused on the past.

Jack was the first one to break away. He polished off the remainder of the beer, which was still at least three-fourths full. The other three sipped.

"I need another," Jack said, barely keeping the grief out of his tone. He left for the kitchen without looking at anyone. He was up the stairs before he asked, "Everybody okay?"

His teammates responded with various takes on the affirmative.

Jack wanted to kick himself for spoiling the fun they were having, the celebration of their victory and survival against all odds.

He popped the top on a Leinie and slowly made his way back to the den.

Stopping at the top of the stairs, he looked at each of his withdrawn teammates one by one. Thought of what they had done together over the past year. Thought of what each meant to him and what they meant as a team.

He had a family again. And one really horrible thing got it all started.

Jack skipped down the few stairs and fell into his chair. "I've got another toast, kids."

Carter almost glared at him. In the circles she had moved in before joining Stargate Command, the "absent friends" toast was always the last one. She couldn't imagine it not being the case for her CO.

Jack answered her disapproving look with an "I'm breaking unofficial protocol for a reason" nod. He raised the bottle over the table once again. "To Apophis," he said evenly.

Teal'c looked downright angry when he barked, "O'Neill! I will not drink to that!" Sam and Daniel chimed in together with an unbelieving "What?"

"The way I see it, if old snake-boy hadn't come through our 'gate and snatched Sergeant Pinter, we wouldn't be here," he stated, emphasizing the last word.

A long moment passed, during which Jack watched their faces as they considered what he said, and remembered how they got to that space and time.

Carter raised her glass first to touch Jack's, followed soon by Daniel. They looked to Teal'c and waited.

Teal'c first sought Daniel's eyes. He held his gaze for a few moments, finding friendship and forgiveness and understanding in them. He turned to Sam, where he saw acceptance, admiration, and affection.

Finally, he met O'Neill's eyes. In those he found trust, loyalty, and brotherhood.

The former First Prime of Apophis, the warrior who had rebelled against that false god, lifted his glass, keeping his eyes locked with O'Neill's.

"Indeed."

)end(


	2. B is for Bragging Rights

**B is for Bragging Rights**

Time Frame: During _Covenant_ (Season 8).

Jack O'Neill and Thor had more than just business with the president.

_The Pentagon, HomeWorld Security Main Conference Room_

"It is my honor and privilege to present the Stargate Command Medal of Valor to Colonel Alexei Sergeivich Vaselov for his heroic and selfless actions in saving Stargate Command, its personnel, and Earth." General Jack O'Neill opened the burgundy-colored velvet case to show the medal—octagonal, burnished trinium and silver alloy with a stargate around the inside edges with the six coordinates for Earth in ocean blue and the Earth symbol in the center—to the person accepting it. "It is with deep regret that I cannot award this to Colonel Vaselov himself. He will always be remembered for the ultimate sacrifice he made."

Solemnly, O'Neill closed the oblong box and handed it to Colonel Chekov along with the full formal citation.

"Thank you, General O'Neill. I am proud to accept this on behalf of Colonel Vaselov and his family. Perhaps one day, they, along with the rest of the planet, will know of his great deed."

"I hope so, too," Jack said sincerely. He brought himself to full attention and smartly saluted Vaselov's surrogate.

###

Those in attendance—the American Joint Chiefs of Staff, a number of HomeWorld Security officials including General Hammond, Thor, and several Russian military leaders who knew about the program—sedately moved to the back of the room for some light refreshments and conversation.

General Hammond was catching up with Thor when O'Neill joined them. He handed off one of the glasses of punch to Hammond and turned to Thor to say, "Sorry, buddy. Nothing . . . weird enough to suit your physiology. Or taste buds. You still do have taste buds, right?"

Thor did what passed for smiling. "That is all right, O'Neill. I have no need at the moment for any nourishment. And yes, I still have taste buds, though they have . . . _evolved_."

George chuckled while Jack had the good graces to look at least partially chastised. "I'd say that makes you two even-steven, Jack."

"We're not keeping score, General. Thor and I kid each other. We're good buddies. Right, Thor?"

The Asgard Supreme Commander simply replied with a painstakingly slow blink.

Before the conversation could continue, Chekov joined the trio. "General O'Neill, I wish to speak with you, if I may."

Jack almost looked relieved. "Of course, Colonel. What can I do for you?"

"I wish to know how it feels to now sharing bragging rights to saving the world. It must be particularly difficult for you that is a Russian."

O'Neill's neck crimsoned as he fought to hold his tongue lest he lash out at the liaison officer.

Hammond was not as restrained. "Colonel, you do _not_ want to go there."

Chekov appeared not to hear the veiled threat—or he just didn't care. "After all this time of you and the rest of SG-1 being Earth's saviors, it must be, what is the word? Ah! It must be galling to have to share the limelight with a Russian. Am I right, General?"

O'Neill finally had reasonable control of his emotions. "Colonel Chekov, if I were you, I'd shut my pie hole," he responded amiably, though tainted with an undercurrent of molten sarcasm.

"Are you thinking this _award_ will compensate for the loss of one of Russia's finest citizens? And for the death of Lieutenant Colonel Evanov on P3X-367?"

"This is about Vaselov, _Colonel_, not about anyone else or about politics. It's about the SGC paying its respect to one of its own. It's not about any hidden agenda you or I might have. No, wait. I _have_ no hidden agenda. And I _know_ you can't say the same, Yuri."

Hammond glanced at Thor, who seemed to be enthralled with the goings-on between the two men. He couldn't be prouder of Jack at the moment; proud of his self-control, because if anyone ever needed decking, it was Chekov. Yep, Jack just kept confirming he was the only man for the job of SGC Commander.

"Oh, come now, General," Chekov continued, lending a touch of contempt to O'Neill's title. "You've objected to a Russian presence at the SGC for years. One has to think this sudden change of heart is covering for some ulterior motive."

His free hand clenched tightly at his side, O'Neill reached his limit. "General Hammond, Thor, if you'll excuse me, I need some air. And cake. Though not necessarily in that order." Turning to Chekov, he nailed him with a venomous look. "_Gonach, hasshak_!" His gaze returned to his CO and his alien friend. Nodding respectfully, he left them and headed for the dessert table.

Several moments passed before Thor broke the silence. "That was an interesting dialogue. Is this typical Earth custom?"

"No, it's not, Thor. Just some dirty laundry being aired on the colonel's part. Right, Colonel Chekov?"

The Russian, who was staring at the retreating but confident figure of Jack O'Neill, merely grunted.

"Yuri, you can close your mouth now."

Embarrassed, Chekov mumbled something unintelligible. "Of course, General Hammond. My apologies."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Chekov. There's something you should know about General O'Neill and SG-1. None of them has ever asked for anything for every time they've saved the planet, beating incredible odds, expect for a smart-ass request for a thank-you once, if memory serves. Any time any one of them mentions their remarkable actions, it is with self-deprecation. They actually have earned bragging rights many times over. Do you know O'Neill practically blushes and tries to figure out a way to leave as quickly as possible or downplays it when someone mentions what he's done? Carter's pretty much the same. And don't even get me started on Teal'c and Dr. Jackson." Hammond stopped abruptly to take a much-needed breath

"General, I –"

"Don't interrupt a superior officer, Colonel. I have a few more facts to share with you. General O'Neill doesn't even wear all the ribbons he's entitled to wear. Do you know that one of the first things he did when he took command was to institute the SGC Medal of Valor and a few others? He wanted to acknowledge within the unit what can't be acknowledged outside of it yet. I'm embarrassed that I didn't think of doing that years ago. Colonel Vaselov is the first recipient. Now, I don't know why General O'Neill has such a problem with the Russians. Even I don't have clearance for all of his record and he'll carry that information to the grave. All I know is that any problem he has with your people is not interfering with his judgment. Unless you think Vaselov didn't deserve the award."

Chekov looked appropriately discomfited. He said nothing.

"You may speak now, Colonel."

"I beg your pardon, General Hammond. I was not aware of these things. I just assumed . . ." His voice trailed off.

"That's the problem with assuming, Colonel. It makes an ass out of you and me."

"If you will excuse me, I believe I owe General O'Neill an apology. But one question, if you don't mind?"

"Go ahead."

"What does 'gonach, hasshak' mean?"

"If I may, General Hammond?" Thor said before George could answer. "_Gonach_ is a Goa'uld insult or expletive, the translation of which I would prefer not to say in anyone's company. _Hasshak_ translates as 'fool.'"

Chekov reddened in anger, not only at being insulted, but being insulted in Goa'uld.

"Careful there, Colonel. General O'Neill may have insulted you, but at least you know he only calls 'em as he sees 'em. In Texas, we'd call him a straight shooter." Hammond searched the room for Jack and not surprisingly found him trying to choose a piece of chocolate cake. "Better get going before you lose the chance, Yuri."

Chekov smiled at the two people and hurried toward O'Neill.

Hammond chortled as he watched Jack shovel one piece of cake onto a plate that already had a piece on it.

*)end(*


	3. C is for Castle

**C is for Castle**

Time Frame: Early Season 1

The staff blast originated from the battlement closest to half of SG-1. The energy skidded across the top of the huge boulder behind which Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson were crouched. Sharp shards of hard rock peppered their heads. Jack was protected by his cap, but Daniel suffered a few painful nicks to his scalp.

"Remind me again why we're doing this, Daniel," Jack shouted as he rose up high and long enough to sight his MP-5 and fire off a few rounds. He didn't wait to see the Jaffa fall backwards due to two bullets in his head.

"Demna* is a minor Goa'uld in service to Cronus to supply him with trained Jaffa. We're trying to have a negative effect on his army. Remember this was Teal'c's idea to come here." Daniel hoped this would deflect some of Jack's . . . intensity away from him.

Jack rolled his eyes; even in the heat of battle, Daniel didn't get rhetorical. "Yeah, yeah." The boulder shook from a direct staff blast. The rock cracked and grew hot, forcing both men to back away a few inches to avoid getting burned. "Fewer Jaffa for Cronus, easier to take the snakehead down. I get it."

Daniel stretched to the side and fired his handgun in the general direction of the fortress.

"Think you hit anything, Daniel? Like maybe _any_ part of the huge honkin' wall?" Jack's voice dripped with sarcasm as they curled up even tighter when a second staff blast hit their protection. Now light shone through new gaps and the rock radiated more heat. This was something that Carter hadn't warned him about when she was explaining her conjectures about the local rocks. She was right about multiple direct staff blasts being required to pulverize these boulders and one other thing: their radio signals hadn't made it through so they'd had to rely on timing. "Crap! What's taking Carter and Teal'c so long?" Skulking around the gigantic, unfamiliar structure planting all the C-4 they had and then getting out without getting caught was more of a time-eater than any of them had calculated. Unless, of course, they'd been apprehended. He didn't want to go there.

"Get ready to move out, Daniel. The next blast is gonna take out our cover and us along with it." Fortunately, there was plenty of cover to run to. Numerous boulders littered the area around the fortress like so many overgrown lawn ornaments. Obviously, the Goa'uld didn't think they'd be a problem.

Jack popped up and sprayed the battlements with lots of bullets to buy some time. He was down again before he could see if he had hit any Jaffa. Taking a few deep breaths, he came to a squat that would allow him to dart off to the left. Daniel imitated him and prepared to take off to the right, as they had planned earlier.

"Okay, Daniel, stay low, move forward, zigzagging a little. On three. I'll draw their fire."

"Uh, do you mean when you _say_ 'three' or just _after_ you say 'three'?" The archeologist's voice quivered ever so slightly from fear and adrenaline.

"When I _say_ 'three,' okay?" _Geez, this is something I'll have to be sure we get straightened out again when we get back_, O'Neill thought. "You ready?"

Daniel couldn't find his voice so he just nodded and pushed his glasses further up his nose using the business end of the gun.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when Danny didn't blow the top of his head off with that birdbrain move; there were too many Jaffa more than willing to do that for him. Anyway, yet another point to work on with him once they were back on Earth. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Both rabbited for their next cover, with Jack firing his MP-5 on full automatic. They were just in time. Another staff blast turned the fractured rock into shrapnel and filled the air with thick dust. They were far enough away that the displaced air didn't send them flying, but it did snatch Jack's cap from his head.

Daniel had his head covered with his arms, thereby saving him from fatal wounds. Though his arms and upper back smarted a lot from multiple perforations, he made it to the next boulder without stumbling. He was pretty sure none of the shrapnel penetrated deeply enough to puncture his lungs, thanks to the vest, so considered himself lucky.

As for Jack – not so much. One particularly large shard pierced his right thigh, a smaller one managed to sneak into his side between his belt and vest, while a third grazed his now cap-less head. He went down with a grunt, but most of him ended up behind his destination rock.

"Jack!" Daniel called out from behind his cover. He knew something was wrong because he'd heard his friend hit the ground hard. Impatiently, he waited for the air to clear.

The next thing he knew, the ground shook beneath him. Explosion after explosion rocked the fortress, sending the Jaffa on the battlements to the earth on one side or the moat on the other and Daniel to his butt.

Moments later, hordes of screaming native people from eight or nine large villages, wielding all sorts of medieval weaponry, left the safety of the surrounding forest and charged the crumbling fortress. Even the keep, where the Goa'uld Demna consistently was at this time of morning, was crashing down. Assuming they were leaderless, the Jaffa scattered. Many dropped their staff weapons as they sought to escape the invaders.

Daniel struggled to his feet. It hurt a lot more than he thought it would, even accounting for impressively-sized bits of rock sticking out of him. He stood still for a moment to let the dizziness pass and take a few deep breaths. Instantly coughing from all the rock dust he sucked in—_God that hurts!_—he staggered toward his teammate. "Jack!" he kept yelling every two or three steps. His worry increased with each time there was no response to the name.

After what seemed like a journey of several miles through deep snow, he was finally within a few yards of the still figure of his friend. He could see the blood everywhere—at least it seemed everywhere to him. "No! Jack?"

An arm moved. The hand attached to it went immediately for his head. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, Daniel, I've got a headache," he scolded. "Turn down the volume a few hundred notches."

"Careful, Jack, you're hurt." Daniel swiped the dust from his face. Left behind was blood smeared there from his hands. Carefully, he knelt at Jack's right side.

"Ya think?" Jack whispered. He couldn't muster his usual sarcasm as the pain from his injuries flared horribly. He really hated it when the effects of the adrenaline subsided. "Last time I'm the diversion. Next time _I_ get to storm the castle."

*)end(*

*Demna (aka Finn MacCool, Fingal, etc) was a giant god/warrior of Ireland who banished an invading giant from Scotland.


	4. D is for Death

**D is for Death**

Time Frame: Any time with Janet and Daniel.

Teal'c stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes constantly switching between Janet Fraiser and his beloved companion in her care. He knew what she was going to say by the sudden droop in her shoulders.

The chief medical officer of Stargate Command sighed heavily. Steeling herself, she looked up into the inquiring eyes of Teal'c.

"I'm sorry, Teal'c. There was nothing I could do. He's gone."

A pronounced sadness covered the Jaffa's face. His jaw muscles contracted and relaxed for several moments before he could speak. "Thank you for attempting to save him, DoctorFraiser."

"He had a good life, Teal'c. Just too short." Janet touched his elbow in sympathy.

"Indeed."

Still hovering in the background with Sam and Daniel, Jack shook his head. "Ya know, this wouldn't be happening if we'd given him a pet rock like I wanted," he groused quietly to the scientists.

Despite Jack's best effort, Teal'c heard him and at the moment agreed with him, his feeling of loss much greater than he thought it would be. He imagined the scolding looks the rest of SG-1 most assuredly were now throwing at their leader. The image did lighten his heart somewhat.

His teammates approached Teal'c together. Teal'c could sense O'Neill fidgeting from discomfort.

Daniel was the first to stand beside his grieving friend. "Teal'c, I'm so sorry for your loss. Is there anything you'd like to say or do?"

"Yes, there is, DanielJackson. Though he was not a warrior, he was strong of spirit. I wish to sing the lament reserved for honoring such warriors." A moment later, Teal'c's rich voice filled the air, engulfing all of them in warmth and grief.

Once he finished, they remained silent briefly, in awe of what they had just experienced.

"Teal'c, may I say a few words?"

"I would be honored, as would he, DanielJackson."

Daniel cleared his throat. "This is from the Tibetan Book of the Dead." He then went on to recite an abbreviated funerary rite in the source language. Once he finished, he stepped away.

Teal'c nodded to the retreating figure, hoping it expressed his appreciation for Daniel's caring and the honor he felt for the friendship they shared.

Sam took Daniel's place and pulled Teal'c into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Teal'c. I know he meant a lot to you. "

"Thank you, SamanthaCarter." He purposefully used her full name and not her rank to acknowledge her as a close, compassionate friend rather than a teammate in this circumstance.

Sam gave Teal'c a small smile in appreciation. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. Then she too stepped away.

Again a few moments of silence followed. When it began to stretch into an uncomfortable length, Daniel decided to drag Jack into the impromptu funeral. "Jack, do you have anything . . .?"

Teal'c saw Daniel's expression in his peripheral vision. It did not match the encouraging tone he had used with O'Neill. If the glower were to be put into words, he suspected the admonition would be: _He was Teal'c's first pet. He loved the little guy. So what if it was a goldfish? This is important to him. Don't be a smartass and hurt Teal'c's feelings._

Jack widened his eyes at Daniel, his way of communicating disappointment that Daniel would think he'd not take this moment seriously.

He moved in closer to Teal'c and placed his hand on the overly tense back. "T, you know I'm a man of few words and I can't sing worth diddly, so . . . My condolences. And Auric Pesci, we hardly knew ya," he said with genuine sincerity. He patted the Jaffa several times before dropping his hand and rejoining Daniel and Carter.

Daniel, Janet, and Sam stared at Jack in stunned surprise that he hadn't put his foot firmly in his mouth. He retorted with a shrug and mouthed a slightly clueless "What?"

Teal'c, on the other hand, looked at him with gratitude as he inclined his head respectfully. There was no surprise on his part.

*)end(*


	5. E is for Eluding the Enemy

**E is for Eluding the Enemy**

Time Frame: After_ Spirits _and before_ Meridian._

###

Sweat poured from the two men's bodies in torrents, thanks to the high humidity of the jungle and their exertion. The running alone would've been enough, but the burdens they carried added greatly to their fluid loss.

The man in the lead stumbled over a vine and nearly dropped the woman he carried over his shoulder. As he fought to stay upright, he heard a moan issue from her lips.

His free arm went up like a shot to signal a halt to their run. The other man, and the one he carried, stopped inches shy of the leader.

The leader dragged in several deep breaths. He was annoyed that his companion didn't seem to need to do so as well, but it didn't surprise him. "She needs another injection. Him?"

The larger, darker man turned his attention to the burden he'd been carrying for several hours. A second later, he said, "I do not believe so, but it would be wise to inject him as well."

Gently, they lowered their burdens to the ground and shed their backpacks. The leader withdrew two pre-filled syringes from his pack and handed one to his partner. "Left arm this time."

Almost simultaneously, they injected the unconsciousness people through the fabric of their uniform sleeves. The leader reached out for the other syringe and then dropped them back into his pack. Cautiously, tenderly, he retracted one of the woman's eyelids. There it was—a startling blue color surrounding a black center. He did the same to the man lying beside her. Blue as well, though a different hue, and just as startling.

"Drink, then we go," he whispered. "They're close."

The other man nodded and took a long draught from his canteen. "I agree. Our pursuers are quite adept and most persistent." He saw the worry in the leader's eyes. "We will get them home."

The leader nodded brusquely, though he didn't feel the confidence the other man projected in his last statement. The enemy chasing them was more formidable than they had originally thought, and determined to take the two injured people from them. That determination canceled out the significant physical advantages they had over their pursuers.

Seconds later, they continued the run through the jungle, their burdens lovingly carried across their shoulders this time.

###

One of the hunters silently called for a stop when the trail seemed to have disappeared yet again. He and his partner halted. As the first one cocked his head one way and slowly swiveled it in a 180-degree arc in an effort to capture any human sound in this jungle, the other stood back-to-back and copied him, giving them a 360-degree search.

The people they pursued were quite intelligent and skilled in eluding them. The hunted had laid down multiple false trails and sometimes, like now, just seemed to vanish. They had weaved circuitous routes, not giving a hint of where they were headed. The hunted had set traps as well—nothing lethal, just enough to slow them down. But the hunters stayed far enough apart from each other so that only one of them ever sprang a trap and was caught or injured and the other was free to remedy the situation.

The first hunter, dark skin glistening with heavy sweat, stopped his aural scan abruptly and leaned in the direction of the source of a sound that grabbed his attention. The other sensed the movement and stopped as well. Both automatically held their breaths and waited.

After several moments, the first man nodded once to confirm he had acquired their targets and signaled the direction they would take. The second one responded with a curt nod and a feral expression on his face, reddened with both blood and fury.

They breathed together and resumed their near-silent pursuit.

###

The leader dared not stop again, despite the burning in his lungs, muscles, and bones. The woman seemed to have gained weight, but he knew that perception was simply a sign of his rapidly progressing exhaustion. He was tempted to hide her somewhere and come back for her when their pursuers had given up.

He snorted when he realized he was kidding himself. Those pursuing them would never give up.

However, the thought gave him an idea.

He signaled a stop again, smiling weakly when he heard a growl from his teammate.

The darker man drew close to the leader. "Why do you call a halt yet again?" he whispered harshly, almost breathlessly. His immense energy was flagging, despite his determination.

"They won't give up. We have to stop them." _Permanently_. Though he didn't say that out loud, he could see that his companion understood the intention.

The thought of killing the hunters for simply chasing them to take the unconscious people was abhorrent to both men. Both were warriors and both had moral codes. But the two they carried were so important to them; nothing could prevent them from getting them home. So they would do what they had to do.

The enemy hunting them had to die.

###

The leader used gestures to lay out his plan. His teammate nodded his agreement.

The hunters stopped their stealthy passage through the jungle when they sensed something had changed.

The native creatures, previously silent, now were making noise. Still quiet, but building in volume.

They melted into the cover provided by one of the gigantic purple-green fronds of a tree that stretched many feet toward the sky. In the darkness it provided, they opened their canteens and drank deeply from them. They checked each other's wounds—none serious, but most of which would have been painful had adrenaline not been soaking every cell of their bodies. The dressings for those wounds that they had bothered to bandage were saturated with blood diluted by sweat.

Satisfied their injuries were relatively stable, they looked at each other. They communicated not with words but with subtle eye, facial, and head movements, almost telepathically exchanging ideas, weighing alternatives, and deciding on a plan.

They nodded a final time and went their separate ways for the first time since they began pursuing the enemy.

###

The hunted leader perched in a tree. He strained to hear any unnatural sounds in the growing cacophony of the jungle. He sneered at the proverbial double-edge sword: though the return of the normal sounds of this environment hid their own, it made it more difficult to hear their hunters in time. His companion, he hoped, would have better luck as his hearing was more acute.

He figured if sound didn't give away the enemies' positions, their alien stench would.

They waited patiently for the time when the hunters would become the prey.

###

Though neither of them could see or hear the other, they knew exactly where the other was as they scouted the area where they intuitively knew their enemy would be. Just as they knew they were walking into an ambush.

The lighter-skinned hunter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the knot in his gut tighten. They were near. He breathed deeply through his nose.

Yes, there it was. An alien scent to be sure, with hints of the universal smell of fear.

He crouched down further and began to circle in place slowly, looking and listening for anything else that didn't fit.

It was pure luck that the treed leader saw rather than heard the rustle of ground plants and the camouflaged clothing of the hunter. He took careful aim with his weapon and just before releasing the arrow, the hunter looked up.

Their eyes met. In the next instant, the man on the ground fired his zat and the man in the tree loosed his arrow.

_Aw, crap! Not again!_ Jack O'Neill thought as the arrow pierced his left bicep, yet he never took his eyes off the kidnapper he and Teal'c had been pursuing for hours. When he heard the thud and a loud crack as the alien hit the jungle floor, he smirked. Hunched, he crept from his current position with as much stealth as he could. He found a good place to hide but still see fairly well around him—especially his downed opponent. Besides, he couldn't bear to move any farther. The arrow kept catching on the abundant foliage, tearing his muscle a little more with each snag, and he wasn't about to put down the zat for even a second. The damn thing would have to stay put for now.

###

Hearing the zat'nik'atel fire gave Teal'c reason to smile grimly; hopefully, O'Neill had found and disabled one of them without further harm to himself. Now he had to maintain discipline and wait for the second one to reveal himself. Teal'c knew the second kidnapper was close; he could feel the man's body heat but couldn't yet pinpoint the location of the source.

Then he heard a scrunching sound some yards behind him, along with the sensation of greater heat. He whirled to face it, his own zat'nik'atel primed and ready to fire. He triggered the device a split second before the other man released his arrow.

The arrow, which would have bounced harmlessly off the Jaffa's tac vest, sliced through the skin and muscle at the juncture where his neck and shoulder met. Teal'c paid no heed to this latest injury.

He covered the distance to the kidnapper swiftly and promptly bound the man's wrists and ankles with the plastic cuffs O'Neill had them carry on every mission. He keyed the radio twice.

###

_You go, big guy!_ Jack thought when he heard the zat fire. He grinned widely when he heard the soft signal in his ear a minute or so later. He keyed his twice as well, assuring Teal'c it was safe to join him.

Slowly he stood so Teal'c could find him easily. He wasn't about to move yet; he'd had enough of the plant life jerking the arrow around in his arm.

He heard Teal'c well before he arrived. He chuckled when he saw the Jaffa—a sour expression on his face—dragging his kidnapper by the collar. He pointed to his "victim," and Teal'c deposited his next to the fallen.

Without speaking, Teal'c came to stand in front of his friend. He looked at the arrow protruding from O'Neill's arm before cocking his head expectantly at his friend. After a long pause, O'Neill nodded his consent, inhaled sharply, and clenched his teeth.

To stabilize the arrow shaft, Teal'c wrapped one hand around it where it exited Jack's arm. With his free hand, he easily snapped it in two. He could feel the part remaining in O'Neill move, despite his best effort.

O'Neill hissed and swayed slightly from the bump in pain. Once he settled down and tucked his left hand in his belt, he took a good look at Teal'c recent wound and asked, "You okay?"

"My symbiote has begun to heal me. However, I will need to perform kel'no'reem before too many more hours pass."

"Good, good. How about waking one of those jokers up first so we can find out where they hid Carter and Daniel." He opened a small pocket on his vest and withdrew an ammonia capsule. "Take your pick."

Solemnly, Teal'c took the capsule. Snapping and waving it under the nose of the lighter-skinned, slightly smaller of the two, he commanded, "Awaken _now_! We have questions we require you to answer immediately."

The hunted man awoke, sputtering and gagging at the noxious smell. He tried to swat Teal'c's hand away but found he couldn't use his arm; it was broken. "Please spare us."

_English. At least __**something's**__ going our way_. "If you don't tell us where our friends are _right now_, the only thing we'll spare you is a lot of suffering before we kill you," Jack said menacingly. He had the zat trained on both kidnappers.

The captive's eyes opened wide with fear and certainty that the captor would do as he promised. "They are about a hundred paces that way," he said, flicking his head to indicate the direction. "We meant them no harm. In fact, we were taking them home. There, they would be treated as precious gifts, more precious than our children."

O'Neill nodded to Teal'c, who left to find the rest of SG-1. He frowned at the alien. "What's your name?"

"I am called Jakreet. My comrade is called Tellcone."

It surprised Jack to hear names so close to his and Teal'c's. He took a much closer look at the two and was further surprised to see how closely they resembled them. _And bigger, taller, not as good-looking. Definitely not as good-looking_. "What makes them so precious to you, huh?"

Jakreet swallowed air, as his mouth was bone-dry. "People with eyes the color of theirs are highly desired on Proteana because their eyes are the color of the sea, home of our god. Sea-eyed people bring their owners much favor. Tellcone and I've been traveling through the Standing Ring of the Sea for some years in search of blue-eyed people to sell to those willing to pay."

O'Neill's brown eyes hardened as he listened to Jakreet's explanation. The darkness within him that he was able to control began to flare up. "Sorry, Jakreet, they're not for sale," he said, a threatening edge to his tone.

Jakreet wasn't ready to give up. "How about _one_ of them? We'll pay you handsomely. Or maybe they can come for just a while, until they mate and produce a child?"

Jack became even more appalled. Before he could tear into the desperate man for his disgusting, insane idea, Teal'c's voice intruded. "O'Neill, I have found them. They are unconscious and have minor injuries."

The leader of SG-1 huffed out a breath of relief and along with that, his worry and adrenaline levels plummeted. He staggered a little but his anger at what had happened fed his ability to rapidly recover. "Good news, T. Come on back. I've got a plan."

###

The first phase of Jack's plan involved marching Jakreet and dragging the still unconscious Tellcone to where they had hidden Daniel and Carter and finding out exactly what the aliens had done to his teammates.

Jack was so relieved to see Daniel and Carter. Jakreet and Tellcone had seen to their comfort. After all, they were an investment and likely to bring them more money the healthier they were. The men had placed them on beds of cushy foliage with those giant fronds rolled up for pillows.

"What did you do to 'em?" Jack's tone was icy and demanding.

So held by the angry power that emanated from the alien leader, Jakreet couldn't pull his gaze away to look at Tellcone, who had finally begun to come around. "We-we-we had only m-m-m-meant to sedate them," Jakreet stammered. He paused to collect himself; he dared not show any sign of weakness around the aliens. "But the woman fought back and screamed, waking up the rest of you."

O'Neill remembered that short fight. Zat ready to fire, Jack had exited his tent to see Carter out cold. Teal'c, the first to leave the tents, was doubled over and clutching his belly; somehow one of the attackers had kicked the Jaffa in his most vulnerable spot. He never saw Daniel as someone out of his line of sight had clubbed him unconscious.

It took almost all the strength O'Neill had not to fire the zat again. He hated what they'd done to his teammates, and he loathed how they and their people were all too willing to treat other people like chattel.

During this short stretch of silence as O'Neill reconsidered the rest of his plan, he caught a cautionary look from Teal'c. Jack eased his finger off the zat trigger. "T, help out Jackrabbit. Not with our stuff, though. We need that for Carter and Daniel."

Teal'c immobilized Jakreet's broken arm with some vines and restrained his uninjured arm none too gently. He cut the cuffs around Tellcone's ankles and assisted him to his feet. Out of caution, Teal'c used more vines to bind the kidnapper's elbows together. Both captives now faced O'Neill.

"What you two clowns are doing is way too evil for words," the leader of SG-1 said. "We'd be doing the galaxy a favor if we just went ahead and killed you." He paused, pleased to see both of them fidget. "But _we're _civilized and since you didn't kill us when you had the chance and your traps were pretty damn lame"—he smiled to himself when he saw hope on their faces—"we'll let you go. With a warning. Find another line of work or I swear my friend here and I will track you down _again_ and finish what we probably should've done. People are _not_ supposed to be bought and sold, for cryin' out loud."

Teal'c glared at the two Proteanans, as if to underscore what O'Neill had said.

After another pause to let his words sink in, Jack continued, "Teal'c'll take you to the 'Gate now." He saw a flash of thought on Jakreet's face and immediately recognized it for what it was: a plan of his own in its infancy. Jack knew exactly what it would be; it's what he would do if he were in their shoes. "And don't even _think _about enlisting more losers and coming right back. If I see or even _hear_ you on this rock again, I will kill you _dead_." When he saw one of Teal'c's eyebrows arch, he said softly, "Making a point about cockroaches*, T. I'll fill you in later."

O'Neill cleared his throat and let the anger rebuild. "And then _he'll_ kill you again." He nodded to Teal'c and signaled him to move out.

The Jaffa snarled at their prisoners and primed his staff. He pointed it at Tellcone and the zat at Jakreet. "Proceed."

Tellcone looked down into Teal'c's furious eyes. "Please. May we speak?"

Teal'c and Jack looked at each other. After a moment, Jack shrugged and rolled his head with put-upon contempt. "Speak," ordered Teal'c.

"You had every right to end our lives, yet you did not. Thank you. We will . . . consider your words carefully."

"Damn straight, skippy. Teal'c, get 'em outta here." He watched his friend prod the pair into starting their forced march and continued to do so until the jungle swallowed them up. It would be a while until Teal'c returned with Proteana's 'Gate address and medical assistance from the SGC, along with a team left at the 'Gate just in case the aliens were stupid, crazy, or greedy enough to come back for their "bounty."

###

The final phase of Jack's plan was to check Daniel and Carter out. He lowered the zat and fought off the escalating pain and fatigue—he had work to do.

O'Neill, to avoid jarring his arm, knelt very slowly beside his second-in-command. He shook her gently by a shoulder and called her name. When there was no response, he knew the sedating drug she'd been given still had a hold on her. And since Daniel couldn't even handle a full bottle of beer, Jack didn't try to rouse him.

Cautiously, tenderly, he retracted one of Carter's eyelids. There was what the aliens desired—a startling blue iris surrounding a black pupil. He did the same to Daniel. Just a different hue of blue and just as startling.

He smiled as he went about tending their injuries as best as a temporarily one-armed field medic could do, happy they were there for him to tend to, and happy Teal'c was there to help him keep them where they belonged.

End

*This is a reference to the old (?) Raid bug spray commercials that says the product "kills 'em dead."

Thanks to Cheryl for the beta!


	6. F is for Freaks

**F is for Freaks**

Time Frame: _New Order Part 2_ missing scene. Jack learns of his "special" nature. (this, in part, is a reference to a line O'Neill says in SGU's _Subversion_ episode)

"What do you mean, I'm 'special'?" growled O'Neill.

"All right then, I'll tell ya again. You have a very rare gene that makes it possible for ya to operate certain Ancient technologies. That makes you special."

One thing O'Neill had noticed early on in their conversation was that Dr. Carson Beckett's Scottish accent thickened when he was stressed. And right now, it was pretty damn thick. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his superior officer's glare that told him in no uncertain and unspoken terms that he should back off.

"Colonel, I have it as well," Beckett said so softly that Jack didn't hear him.

Hammond leaned forward and placed his forearms on his desktop. "It was Dr. Jackson who had the idea that the Antarctic weapon might actually be controllable only by Ancients because of its power, Colonel. Not a great leap in logic, seeing that no one else had been able to activate it again. Plus Dr. Jackson recalled that a few things SG teams have brought back over the years only seemed to work either after you'd touched them or were in close proximity to them."

"How do we know it's this . . . _gene_ thingy, sir? It could've been . . . _hormones_?" _God, please let it be hormones. I don't wanna be a freak. I don't wanna be a lab rat, which all too often happens to freaks related to this program_, he thought desperately.

Dr. Beckett said, "Don't think we didn't pursue that line of inquiry, Colonel. We, I mean, some of my fellow scientists did look inta that. Once I discovered you and I share a –"

"What? You mean you and I have this magical mystery gene in common?" Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's just _peachy_."

"Colonel," Hammond said in a warning tone. Jack settled down—a little. "Dr. Beckett, please continue."

Carson turned his head toward Hammond and nodded but kept his eyes on the fuming colonel. "To test my, oh, and Dr. Jackson's hypothesis, I sat in that . . . chair. The most I could get it to do was switch on a bit. But that was more than anyone has been able to do. And I was able to activate the same things you had in the past."

O'Neill studied Beckett's earnest, open, somewhat scared face. His misdirected animosity towards the physician/geneticist faded and soon the animosity vanished altogether as he had no candidate for it. Of course Beckett should be scared. Those vultures from NID or Area 51 were sure to have him—_them_—on their radar.

Something else occurred to him. _Oh, great. It's bad enough I have to keep plugging Ancient knowledge leaks in my head. Now I have to control my genetic code, too? _He sighed deeply and felt tired just thinking about it.

Then something Beckett said gave him hope. "Doctor, can you explain why you got the chair to just 'switch on a little' and I got it to . . . do more?"

Carson relaxed slightly at the softer tone the colonel used. "I believe the difference in how the chair acted with you and with me may be due to the gene's expression or regulation or even the influence of other genes. I'm not sure yet. That'll take some time to study, especially since there are so few people with it."

Jack sighed once again. "General, who knows about this?"

Hammond grimaced. He knew Jack was primarily concerned about SG-1, but his very private friend deserved the full roll call. "I'm afraid a lot of people already know. The president, the Joint Chiefs –"

"The NID," Jack interrupted with bitter resignation.

"Unfortunately, I'd say that's a safe bet."

"What about my—SG-1?"

George caught how Jack veered away from referring to SG-1 as _his _team. Part of him grieved along with the colonel. "Dr. Weir and I have tried to keep it from them and the rest of your command so you could inform them as you see fit."

_Aw, crap and double crap_. A dejected Jack O'Neill, USAF Colonel-soon-to-be-General, reluctantly surrendered to the fact that his life had changed drastically once more. This time, he couldn't see an upside.

######

As soon as he arrived at Cheyenne Mountain, he asked Walter Harriman to have SG-1 come to his office. He took one of the chairs from Walter's office and put it in his. He barely had enough time to hang up his dress uniform jacket when Daniel knocked on the door frame.

"Hi, Jack!" Daniel said brightly. He entered without permission, Sam Carter and Teal'c right on his heels. "Welcome back. How was General Hammond? Washington? The president?"

"Thanks, Daniel. Fine, creepy, and fine." As soon as he saw Carter start with the at-attention stance and salute, he pulled a face. "Carter, don't you dare start that . . . salute-the-general stuff with me."

The major smiled self-consciously and said, "Yes, sir. Congratulations. Good to have you back, sir."

"Indeed, O'Neill. The entire base has missed you, though some more than others," said Teal'c.

"Okay, what was the pool?"

"Some predicted that you would decline the promotion and resign. The winners, however, are those who wagered you would return with stars on your uniform epaulets. I was in the latter group and am looking forward to collecting my winnings."

Teal'c had come close to losing, as Jack had been undecided until Hammond had convinced him otherwise—Hammond knew him too well and had pulled his strings expertly. Besides, he'd do anything for George Hammond, including walking to Hell on his knees while singing the Marine Corps Hymn.

"Excellent! Then you're buying tonight. How does the Pompei Trattoria sound?"

All three of his former teammates agreed eagerly. Despite that, Jack's foul mood deepened as he now realized he already saw them as his "former" team.

"Take a seat, why don'tcha?" Jack asked, his Minnesota roots showing. "T, could you close the door, please?" He noted that Carter waited until he sat down on the edge of Hammond's—he still thought of it as George's, and not Elizabeth Weir's or certainly not his—desk.

"First piece of business. I'm assuming everyone on base knows about me wanting to say a few words as I officially take command." O'Neill paused as the reality of what was happening really registered for the first time. "Carter, double-check with Walter on the details, please. Especially the cakes. Can't celebrate without cake." _If she only knew what we're really going to celebrate_.

"Second piece of business." Once again he paused. He'd played this out in his head numerous times during his flight from D.C., but hadn't come up with any acceptable way to tell his closest friends, his family, that he was a freak of nature. That his double helix had double-crossed him. Would they ever look at him, talk to him, want to be with him the same way ever again, knowing this _freakish_ thing about him? And God forbid he tell them about these "visions" he'd been having for years about some bowling barber in Indiana. That wasn't freaky, though; that was just plain whacko.

_So just tell 'em, you big chicken_.

Jack cleared his throat. "Second piece is that I seem to have some rare genetic . . . anomaly that lets me _turn on_ Ancient thingies so they can _do_ Ancient . . . thingies."

SG-1's expressions did not change. If anything, they looked as if they were expecting him to go on to the third piece of business.

Jack was dumbfounded. Maybe they didn't understand. "You do have some idea what this means, don't you?"

"Of course we do, Jack," said Daniel. "It means that we can better defend Earth and her allies. Maybe use some technology that will benefit us in other ways. I think we suspected something like this for years." Teal'c and Carter nodded their agreement.

Jack leaned toward the archeologist. "It means I'm a freak, Danny. Who knows if the next Ancient device I touch will blow us up? Or reverse Earth's rotation so the sun sets in the east? Or make me lose my hair?"

Carter snickered at the image of a bald O'Neill before saying, "Sir, I think this is a non-issue. With as many devices as you've had contact with, nothing untoward has happened. Except to Anubis and his fleet."

"It doesn't bother _any_ of you that I'm . . . _different_?"

"It does not, O'Neill. Having spent seven years observing humans, it became obvious to me early in my life among the Tau'ri that you, to use your word, have always been _different_."

"Gee, thanks, T. Makes me feel all warm and cozy."

"Jack," said Daniel, "so you're a 'freak.' So what? So am I, and Sam and Teal'c."

"What? No way you're freaks. You're . . . _you_. You are _not_ freaks."

"Think about it, Jack. Our freakishness is acquired, while yours is natural. Take me, for example. I ascended to a higher plane of existence for a while."

"And me, sir. I've acquired some fairly unique abilities thanks to the leftovers from an alien parasite that died inside me."

"Though I am not considered a 'freak' among my own people, I am one here, as I once carried Goa'uld larvae within my body for more years than you have been alive, O'Neill. I am also much older than I appear to be and considerably stronger than Tau'ri of similar size and build to myself."

"So you see, Jack," Daniel said, "you've always been a part of our little freak show."

Jack O'Neill sat up straight and looked from Daniel to Sam to Teal'c. He found himself embracing his "specialness," button-busting proud that he was in such freakin' good company.

The End


	7. G is for Gourmet

**G is for Gourmet**

Tag to Season 1's _Cold Lazarus_ as well as a spoiler for _1969_

* * *

Eggshell. Fragile and brittle.

Jack O'Neill's team acted as if he were an eggshell, ever since he'd returned from taking the Unity back to his—its?—planet.

But he wasn't fragile or brittle. Yes, that whole experience left him both drained and filled. It was wildly fabulous and excruciatingly sad to see the real Sara and the Unity Charlie. But when the pros and cons were tallied in the end, peace won out over pain by a very small nose.

How could he get them past this? He paced the corridors of the SGC in an attempt to come up with an answer. The four of them were still finding their way around each other, well on their way to becoming a fully realized team, and now this. Bad enough that Daniel knew Jack had been responsible for his son's death and suicidal when they met. Now so did Teal'c and Carter.

_Great way to build up trust in your team leader. Wonder when he's gonna work up the gumption to do it and will he be taking us with him in that final blaze of gory glory?_

It was impossible to miss the sideways glances from Carter as they were checked out in the infirmary after the radiation exposure. He thought he was in more danger from the pity radiation she was emitting. That really galled him.

Teal'c was just as bad, but in a different, subtler way. The Jaffa was being overly solicitous and polite. A kinder, gentler Teal'c he didn't need or want.

What could he do to bring them back to the road they needed to be on to make the team work and maybe even strengthen them? All without compromising his privacy or forcing him to have those types of conversations for which he was ill-suited.

Jack simply couldn't have them worrying about him and his feelings and motives while they were fending off hostile Jaffa or natives. They had to watch each other's backs, not just his.

The kernel of an idea hit him as he watched Sergeant Siler open a 5th Avenue bar as he left Daniel's office.

He about-faced and headed for the cafeteria for milk and pie—two things that helped him grow ideas into plans for execution.

* * *

"Sir, permission to build a small bonfire, really more of a campfire, on the mountain for _all_ of SG-1."

George Hammond raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly is your team planning on doing, Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack explained his plan. "And no need for alarm, sir," he concluded. "I checked, and it's safe to build campfires. I'll be sure to completely extinguish it when we're done." Jack kept his expression softly neutral.

Hammond studied the colonel's inscrutable face and tapped his steepled fingers together while he considered the request. Letting Teal'c out into the world was a very big deal. He knew he could trust the alien, but the Joint Chiefs were another matter.

George chose not to ask O'Neill why he wanted to do this "thing" in particular; he figured he'd just get a load of BS anyway. And he trusted Jack as well. Decision made, he placed his hands on his desk. "Permission granted. Just let the main Security Force know. And stay within the complex, Colonel. I'm not giving Teal'c permission to go off-base."

"Thank you, sir. You won't regret this." Jack gave his CO something that resembled a cross between a Boy Scout and a proper Air Force salute and dashed out of the office.

George shook his head. He wouldn't regret this? He was starting to question an earlier decision he'd made: putting such an unorthodox officer in charge of the most unorthodox team of any sort this planet had ever had or probably would ever have.

He knew the team would work, though. It was the getting there that worried him.

"God help us all," he muttered as he tried to get back to work.

* * *

Before he'd left the mountain for the required supplies, O'Neill had told Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel that he was having an impromptu night training session topside and not to leave the complex. The only other thing he'd told them was to dress warmly and bring flashlights.

It was nearly 2200 when Jack grabbed his pack and shrugged into it. He double-timed it to the elevator so he wouldn't be late.

He wasn't, but he was still the last one to arrive. His team was dressed warmly and carried flashlights, just as he'd instructed. Daniel and Carter also wore questioning looks; Teal'c just frowned more deeply than usual.

"Hi, kids! Let's up and out, shall we?"

"Sir, do you mind telling us what this is all about?"

"Indeed, Colonel O'Neill. You have piqued our curiosity."

Jack chuckled. "Well, you'll find out soon enough. Captain, get us to the surface."

* * *

The night was crisp and clear. Jack chose a section of the mountain where the lights from the complex and the trees wouldn't interfere much with stargazing. It was perfect for what he had in mind.

"Okay, campers, your assignments," Jack began, ignoring the curious and frustrated looks Daniel and Carter were sending his way. "Carter, gather enough wood for decent campfire. Teal'c, find four logs or rocks good for sitting on and bring 'em back here. Daniel, get four sticks, about yea long"—he spread his arms out about 4 feet—"and don't worry if they're a little crooked."

Standing there like statues, they stared at him.

"What? Waiting for the engraved invitations, are you?" Jack snarled impatiently.

"No, sir," Carter came back immediately. Daniel shuffled around a little and Teal'c arched an eyebrow before all three left their team leader in the clearing, their flashlights slicing and bobbing through the darkness.

Jack snorted. He was enjoying this "exercise" a lot. And he needed this time in nature. In the great outdoors he could get his head straight, deal with the wrenching, heart-pounding madness of Sara and Unity Charlie. Hopefully this little jaunt would work its magic for his teammates as well.

He cleared out a shallow pit that had been used previously for a campfire. Fortunately, the rocks that had surrounded the pit's perimeter were still close by. He proceeded to move them back into their intended positions. By then, Daniel had begun grousing about hunting for sticks in the dead of night, every so often punctuating his complaints with a sneeze. Jack snickered quietly. Even if nothing went as planned, at least he got a good laugh out of it.

* * *

Quicker than he'd thought, Jack had a nice fire going. He and Teal'c placed the logs in a square around the fire. Daniel and Carter, squatting a few feet away from the activities around the fire, worked on trimming one end of the sticks to a rounded point and ridding them of several inches of bark at the colonel's request.

Daniel closed the Swiss Army knife Jack had loaned him and pronounced, "Okay, Jack, your sticks are ready. Are we going to learn to fence or throw a javelin?"

"Patience, Daniel, and leave the sarcasm to me. I've had lots more practice." He cleared his throat. "Let's set a spell, as my grandmother used to say." Moments later, they were seated, Teal'c to Jack's left, Daniel to his right, and Carter across from him.

Jack opened his pack. Out came a sturdy cardboard box about the size of a cigar box. He handed it to Daniel. "Pass this to Carter, please. And Carter, don't open it yet."

Daniel looked at Jack as if he were crazy. When he turned to Sam with a question in his eyes, she merely shrugged and took the box. By the time he turned back to Jack, there was another identical box waiting for him. When he took it, Jack held up a finger to signal he should wait. Daniel huffed with perturbed impatience.

"Here ya go, Teal'c," Jack said as he offered the third box to the Jaffa.

Teal'c accepted the package with slight reluctance. He tested its weight and smelled it. Unable to come to any conclusions about the box's contents, he scowled at his commander.

Jack ignored Teal'c. He picked up all of the prepared sticks and said, "Okay, Daniel, open your box."

"Finally," Daniel muttered. He opened it to find a nest of fragrant puffs of whiteness. "What is this?"

"It's a bunch of marshmallows, Daniel! Whatdja think it was—lumps of snow?"

"Uh, no."

"Now put two of 'em on each stick. Try not to split 'em, okay?"

Daniel carefully began his task while Jack held on to the sticks. "Carter, you're up next."

Sam, whose eyes had brightened as soon as she saw the contents of Daniel's box, looked in anticipation at O'Neill. "Colonel?"

He treated her to a sly smile. "Yes, Carter."

She flung the top of her box off. As she gleefully ripped the wrapper off the first Hershey bar, Jack continued to watch Daniel's progress and said, "Teal'c, go ahead and open yours."

Teal'c did so. He peered inside it and sniffed at scored, dark tan, thin sheets. "By what name is this substance known, O'Neill?"

"Those are graham crackers, big guy. You eat 'em. Tasty all by themselves, but when you put them together with roasted marshmallows and chocolate, they're one-third of heaven on earth."

Not convinced, Teal'c's frown deepened. "You are certain this _cracker_ is edible?"

"Positive. You're gonna love it. Trust me on this."

Teal'c's expression didn't change. Daintily, he removed one and examined it closely. "Indeed," he said with doubt and disgust.

Daniel finished sticking the last 'mallow on the stick. "Oh, I get it! We're making some kind of sandwich!"

Jack paused, suddenly aware that in Daniel's case, he may have never done this before. "You've never even _heard_ of s'mores?" The question came out sharp—not exactly how he'd intended.

"Some mores of what, O'Neill?" Teal'c interjected.

"In a sec, Teal'c," he replied while keeping his eyes on the now-embarrassed archeologist. And Carter was averting her eyes. _Crap! You're a freakin' idiot, O'Neill. You're supposed to be making everybody feel better, not worse_. "Sorry, Daniel. I thought you'd know about this. I mean, you must have had dozens of camp-outs doing all that rock-digging you did. So you never made s'mores?"

Daniel shook his head. "Chocolate doesn't exactly travel well in the desert, Jack."

"Point taken," Jack said sheepishly. With a self-conscious gulp, he changed his tone to jovial. "Well, let's get this started! Carter, Teal'c, put the crackers -"

"Yes, sir!" Carter interrupted, all too anxious to get the treats made. She showed Teal'c where to snap the crackers in half and asked him to do three more. While she unwrapped one more chocolate bar, she explained to her new alien friend how to stack the chocolate and the graham.

"Daniel," Jack said, "how about we get started on roasting the 'mallows?" He handed the newbie s'more-maker two of the marshmallow-skewered sticks. "It's okay if they catch fire. Just shake 'em till the flame's out. Don't let 'em get too hot, though, or they'll melt off the stick."

Daniel nodded as he accepted the sticks. With one eye, he watched how Jack held his sticks and how close he let the marshmallows get to the flames. With the other, he watched Carter and Teal'c. Soon, Daniel's mouth filled with saliva as it began to hunger for the treat.

Jack watched all of them. Watched as they settled into the task of working together for a common goal. Watched how they finally began relaxing around him, the eggshell slowly turning back into his customary armor.

* * *

Teal'c's ever-present frown completely disappeared as he tasted the campfire delicacy for the first time. Not only was the taste astonishing, but so were the textures, the differences in temperature, the sight of the oozing marshmallow and chocolate, and the scents of sweetness and earth.

With his first bite, Daniel closed his eyes so nothing he saw would interfere with the flavors and textures delighting his mouth. This sandwich was one of the most sensational things he'd ever eaten. From deep in his throat came a growl of pure pleasure.

Jack and Sam, old hats when it came to s'mores, found themselves enjoying the treat more than usual, but for different reasons. For Sam, it was seeing the thrill of discovery come from both Daniel and Teal'c.

For Jack, it was memories—old and new. Old memories of his family, especially Charlie. New memories of his new team taking another step in their growth. Maybe not just his new team, but his new family, as so many of his previous teams had become to some extent.

Teal'c was the first to finish and break the silence. As soon as he could talk, he said, "I believe I now understand the curious name of this most delectable sustenance." He looked at his fellow warrior, who waited expectantly. "May I have some more, please, O'Neill?"

Jack was unresponsive for a split second while he tried to decide if Teal'c had made a joke or if he'd just, in his own way, told them the meaning of the "s'more." "Sure, Teal'c, you can have more. I brought enough so we could have three a piece." Jack knew he'd have a great time getting to know Teal'c and unmasking the quick, dry wit and high intelligence he knew was there, lurking beneath the surface of the stony alien.

Daniel said something, but no one could understand what through the mouthful of cracker, marshmallow, and chocolate. He grabbed a stick and stuck two marshmallows on it. He passed it to Teal'c over the fire between them and eagerly started preparing another stick. He reminded Jack of a kid given free rein in a candy store. Considering what he knew of Daniel's childhood and young adult life, having free rein over anything was novel for him.

Carter, who had giggled shyly at Teal'c's request for another s'more, now grinned. "I'll get the chocolate ready!" The gleam in her eyes told O'Neill that his second-in-command had a serious chocolate jones—just as he'd suspected.

As they roasted their marshmallows together, O'Neill sensed some remaining tension. He realized it was time to finally talk about the elephant in the middle of the proverbial room, the creature that had haunted all of them since he'd called Sara from the SGC. The death of his son, the specter of his failed marriage, and the devastating impact these events had on him.

He had no idea what to say, though. He was so inept at this type of stuff. So he took a deep breath and hoped something would come to him.

"You know . . ." he said, then paused. Three sets of eyes centered on him. And from somewhere, the words they needed to hear and he needed to speak came to him. "In my family, this is a gourmet meal in a four-star restaurant." He hoped they heard what he hadn't said—that he was dealing well with what had happened and that the four of them were family now, too.

Silence stretched for a few heartbeats, while Teal'c, Daniel, and Sam considered what he'd said as they roasted the marshmallows. For Jack, the time crawled by.

Until he noticed the tension had melted, just like the marshmallows on their sticks. Even the air felt warmer, as each one's personal space seemed to expand to include the others. Suddenly, his vision blurred and his throat tightened. _Am I going soft __**and**__ sentimental in my old age or what._

Again it was Teal'c who spoke first. "What is 'gourmet'? And 'four-star restaurant'? I am not familiar with these terms."

Jack, clearing his throat and rubbing his nose, looked to the team's linguist. "You're Mr. Encyclopedia, Daniel. Enlighten our Jaffa friend."

Daniel chuckled and gave Jack a crooked grin. He turned his gaze to Teal'c. "When 'gourmet' is used as an adjective, as Jack's used it, it means that the food or drink is high quality and prepared with great skill. Most people eat this kind of food at restaurants, which are places people go to eat and can be rated by stars. The more stars, the better the place. Four stars means the restaurant is excellent."

Teal'c nodded slowly. "I understand, DanielJackson. Thank you for your succinct explanation." After a moment, he cocked his head toward SG-1's leader. "I wish to partake of such a meal at one of those establishments as soon as possible, O'Neill," he said quite seriously and with more than a hint of demanding urgency.

Sam, unable to contain herself, giggled at both Jack's expression of amused bewilderment and his delay in responding. Daniel was only slightly more successful at covering his laugh by coughing.

Finally, Jack said, "Whoa there, big guy. It's still a big deal letting you come topside. You will soon, I promise. In the meantime, we can do take-out."

Teal'c furrowed his brow. "What is 'take-out'?"

Jack threw up his hands. "Enough! All this talk and not eating s'mores is bordering on sacrilege. Daniel, let's load up the sticks again, seeing as how the fire got the last round of 'mallows."

Once they had the marshmallows roasting, Jack explained to Teal'c the concept of take-out and reassured him that the stars on General Hammond's uniform were indicative of rank, not a rating of "fair" or "average," as the alien had asked.

* * *

The members of SG-1, after polishing off three s'mores a piece, re-purposed their logs as headrests and stretched out into the cool night on the thin thermal blankets O'Neill had brought.

They lay in companionable quiet, gazing at the stars that sparkled brighter as the fire dimmed, listening to the life in the woods around them, each lost in their thoughts, unaware that they shared a number of them.

~)end(~

thanks to Cori for the beta


	8. H is for Havoc

**H is for Havoc**

Sometime between _Divide and Conquer_ and _Meridian_

Daniel touches something and it has dire consequences for both him and Jack.

**_Jack's thoughts_**

##_Daniel's thoughts_##

HHHH

Uncharacteristically, Teal'c' was the first to speak as SG-1 slowly walked along the perimeter of the gigantic Ancient building. "This structure is most . . . impressive," he said, the hushed tone indicating his awe.

Jack O'Neill whistled softly in agreement and at Teal'c's typical understatement. "Looks like Mad King Ludwig hired an architect on acid to build _this _castle. This is . . . " He paused, at a loss for words.

"Unbelievably, utterly beautiful beyond description, Jack?" Daniel Jackson offered.

"Yeah, that works."

"The footage certainly didn't do this justice," Samantha Carter whispered reverently. She made a mental note to look into improving the imaging capabilities of the cameras mounted on the UAV.

"Funny you should use that word, Sam," Daniel said with a smile in his voice.

"What word? Justice?"

"Yes." Excited, Daniel flew into his fast-talking didactic mode. "The Ancient writing above the main entry translates to _justitatum_, which is _justitia _inLatin and _justice _in English. This means justice in the legal _and _moral sense, as opposed to _aequitas_, which is Latin for -"

O'Neill had felt something akin to a popping whir go off in his head as soon as he heard the linguist say, "_Justitatum_." Abruptly and inexplicably, he became irritable, and a sense of foreboding began to build in him. "Let's save the nuances of really old, dead languages for another time, Daniel, shall we? We came, we saw, and now let's get on with the conquering so we can get outta here."

Daniel frowned at O'Neill's sudden testiness. "It's the differences that could tell us what this building probably is , Jack."

"You mean that this is probably a courthouse, not a muliplex movie theater? I _get_ it, Daniel. And why didn't you tell us this when you _first _sawthat Ancient chicken scratch?"

"Sorry, Jack, but I was struck speechless like everybody else."

Carter looked mystified at the unusually abrasive sarcasm that sharpened her CO's words. On the other hand, Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow and said, "O'Neill, I sense something is causing you to experience illness of your ease."

Teal'c's odd choice of words, which Jack knew to be intentional, partially defused his anxiety. "Yeah, well, all of a sudden this place has started creeping me out. I mean, what do know of Ancients' laws and justice? Maybe they practiced something like old Piso did. Did you see anything about _truth _anywhere, Daniel?"

Both Daniel and Carter's eyes opened wide in surprise at O'Neill's knowing anything about Piso and the legally right but morally wrong justice he meted out centuries ago. "We won't know unless we study this, Jack. Learning from others' mistakes is just as valuable as learning from their successes, so let's take a chance."

O'Neill knew Daniel was right, but that didn't mean he had to like going in there. After several seconds, he said grudgingly, "Okay, fine, but _nobody_"-he stared and pointed straight at the ever-enthusiastic archeologist-"touches _anything_."

"Yes, Jack."

"Yes, sir."

"I will comply with your wish."

O'Neill nodded and shooed them toward the main entrance. His feeling of "ill-ease" grew with every step.

HHHH

While Jackson worked on figuring out how to open the door, O'Neill asked, "Major, care to guess why this . . . palace is still in good shape? Up to now, everything Ancient we've run across has been in need of an extreme makeover."

Carter had been wondering about this already and had formed a hypothesis after analyzing her instruments' readings. "The castle seems to be made from what is likely indigenous rock, which has some remarkable characteristics, unlike anything on Earth―or anywhere else we've come across for that matter. It's somewhat similar to trinium."

O'Neill unconsciously rubbed his right upper arm, as if the long-healed wound from the Salish arrow still hurt. "That's pretty strong, right?"

"Yes, sir," she replied enthusiastically. "The geologists will have a field day with this. The applications -"

"Carter," O'Neill snapped. And almost regretted the tone. This place was getting under his skin enough, without Carter prattling on about applications.

"Yes, sir," she said, now sounding more military than scientist. "Sorry, sir, Um, this rock has probably withstood all erosive forces for a very long time. _And _ithas naquadah in it."

"Naquadah? That is interesting," said Teal'c.

"Yeah, I know! Without studying this in the lab, I can't tell if the naquadah is naturally occurring or if it's been added. If the latter is the case, can you imagine what it took to get the naquadah into the rock?"

"No, I cannot."

O'Neill snorted at Teal'c's deadpan response to Carter's obviously rhetorical question. It shut up Carter long enough for him to say, "So this has probably stood for a _bunch_ of centuries."

By now, Sam had tempered her excitement a bit and caught her breath. "I'm thinking a bunch of _millennia_, sir."

"Got it!" Daniel shouted triumphantly before the conversation on Ancient construction materials and techniques could go further. "I know how to get in."

O'Neill sighed and said in mock excitement, "Do tell! My breath is bated from the wait."

Daniel scowled at Jack, who ignored the visual admonishment. The archeologist cleared his throat. "The Ancient symbols on these seven tiles," Daniel began, indicating one by one the ornate squares running along the left side of the entry door, "are the four classical elements of earth, water, fire, and air, plus aether, heart, and soul. The writing on the other side tells us the order in which they should be activated. Just like a Stargate address," he concluded. When Daniel reached for the earth tile, O'Neill stopped him and insisted he open the door himself.

A miffed and disappointed Daniel Jackson threw his arms up in surrender and stepped aside. "This one first," he said while pointing to the square he'd almost triggered.

Jack touched the tiles in the order Daniel specified. From the first contact, he felt very subtle electrical hums travel up his arm and stop at the back of his head. A warning bell deep inside him went off, but making only a vague impression. Nevertheless, he continued on, as if he had to. By the time he had touched the sixth tile, the realization hit him that he seemed to know the correct sequence of pressing the tiles without Daniel's instructions. The foreboding grew. He considered stopping and telling SG-1 his concerns.

But Jack couldn't speak. Some force was driving him to silence, keeping him from aborting the mission, and to opening the door. His hand wavered over the seventh tile―soul. Fear reared up within him.

Daniel looked closely at his friend and thought Jack seemed a little pale. "Jack, are you okay?"

Teal'c and Carter, hearing the concern in Daniel's voice, paid closer attention to the colonel. His jaw was working overtime, and sweat now beaded on his upper lip.

"O'Neill, are you unwell?"

Teal'c's rumbled question broke the spell. Jack sputtered out a cough. "Yeah, just fine, T. Just swallowed wrong." A flash of dizziness came and went as he felt his brain twirl for a brief moment. Then he felt normal . . . sort of. Any misgivings he had apparently had withered away to almost nothing. "Okay, let's get this over with." He glanced at Daniel.

Doubt and worry painted Daniel's face. O'Neill once again questioned whether he should say anything about his intermittent inability to talk or the creepy-crawly feelings he got when he touched the tiles or his own doubt about the wisdom of continuing this mission. But he was feeling fine at the moment.

Through no will of his own, he said nothing and continued.

O'Neill checked to be sure everyone was in position to the sides of the entrance. He, Carter, and Teal'c readied their weapons simultaneously, while Daniel clutched his notebook of Ancient knowledge. Jack touched the seventh tile.

The door parted in the middle and swung open into the foyer. They heard and smelled a rush of surprisingly fresh air flow out of the structure. When nothing untoward happened, O'Neill quipped quietly, "Let's go find the wizard, shall we?"

SG-1 entered the building in standard formation, with O'Neill in the lead. As they passed through the foyer unchallenged into a magnificent rotunda, both areas brightened from unseen light sources. Carter muttered, "Wonder what the power source is?"

"I'm thinking nobody's home, Jack," Daniel said after ten minutes of cursory checks of the rooms off the rotunda. "Somebody would be by now if there were."

"I agree with Daniel, Colonel. I don't think we'll meet the wizard or the wicked witch today, sir."

Jack's mouth twitched with mirth at Carter's comment. He always enjoyed it when one of them joined him in making Oz references. "Okay, here's the plan. Carter, you and Teal'c do a recon of the rest of this floor. Daniel and I'll stay here and take a closer look at these rooms. Stay alert and call in every 15 minutes."

Carter and Teal'c nodded and left to explore the palace.

Daniel, immediately walking to the large room to the left of the foyer, said, "Let's start here." He pointed to some Ancient writing about the entryway. "See, Jack? _Veritatum_. Ancient for truth."

"Okeyley-dokeley, we've got truth and justice. Any scribbles about the American way?"

Even the reference to Superman he made to amuse himself by annoying Daniel didn't stop Jack from prickling at the idea that "truth" merited only a tiny portion of the humongous castle named "Justice."

"Jack, can't you be serious just one time?" Daniel huffed and rolled his eyes. He headed for the center of the triangular-shaped room where an obelisk in the center of four raised circular platforms rose almost to touch the high vaulted ceiling. In moments, he had dropped his pack and was lost in translating the writing, Jack's needling remarks already forgotten.

Something about the obelisk made O'Neill's brain frizzle and shift gears. He stared at it, unable to move or even break visual contact. All he was certain of was that neither one of them should get close to it, that it was malfunctioning. It was only with intense effort that he was able to turn away. He shook his head to settle down the somersaults in his brain, a totally futile action, then strode toward Daniel, taking care to look only at the enthralled scientist.

The instant Jack stepped on the platform, a baseball-sized orb of stunning opalescent blue-green emerged from the side of the structure Daniel was examining. "Whoa!" Jack mouthed, as the orb quickly became transparent and crackled softly with visible, off-white strands of what he guessed to be energy.

Daniel's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and his mouth opened with unexpressed awe. Unable to deny his nature, he reached out for it. He grinned at the tingling he felt as he got closer and how it seemed to pull him in.

Inexplicably, O'Neill knew that Daniel's mind, and very soon his body, would be lost forever if he touched the orb without someone else touching the damned thing at the same time.

He also knew he couldn't reach the orb in time.

Jack tried to shout a warning but he couldn't seem to get the words out of his increasingly sputtering, jittery brain and to his vocal cords.

He was tempted to fire the P-90 to destroy the orb but with Daniel so close to it, he feared he'd hit him in the process. Plus with his brain doing weird things, he didn't trust his ability to even aim in the right direction. His only hope was to push Jackson away. So he secured the submachine gun against his chest and reached for Daniel with his left hand as he rapidly covered the few paces separating them. His fingertips contacted his friend at the same moment Daniel's caressed the orb.

Both men's mouths opened as widely as they could as multitude of sky-colored strings of energy erupted around Daniel's head and a few around the rest of his rigid body. All of the strands quickly gathered at the point of Jack's contact with Daniel, then traveled through his hand and arm to encircle his head. Soon, most of the blue tangles disappeared into his head.

For at least 15 seconds, they remained motionless, not breathing. Not aware.

Then Jack went flying backwards, only to stop when he hit the doorway's edge. His head snapped back but didn't impact anything solid, the residual blue energy acting like a cushioned helmet. He slid down a few feet to end up sitting on the floor.

Daniel went completely limp and on the way down, banged his head on the orb, which was now a solid mustard-yellow color.

HHHH

When awareness returned to Jack, it was at the speed of light, bringing with it the knowledge he was in pure, unadulterated, searing agony. Plus worse: he was no longer alone inside his head.

Daniel had joined him.

And it was a Daniel in full panic mode, with multiple trains of thought coursing and jumping and pulling and pushing and searching and careening as undercurrents to the dominance of fear. Jack was able to pick up only snatches.

_##What the hell was that?##_

In a vain attempt to ease the overstimulation in his head, Jack squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that they began to water. A strangled shriek made it to his lips as Daniel essentially, though unintentionally, vandalized his brain. He had to protect himself or he and Daniel would both be lost. He had to herd Daniel to a space where he could feel safe and secure. Only then might Daniel stop the assault on Jack's mind and maybe "listen" to his host.

_##O God, what's happening? Where am I? Jack's gonna **kill**__ me for touching that . . . device . . . could be an Ancient . . .##_

Jack had no idea if he could make it work, but he began throwing up barriers in an effort to contain Daniel's mind. But there was so much, and it was all so amazing . . . Daniel's thoughts and strong emotions were overpowering him. In everyday exposure to the workings of Daniel's brain, Jack at times would find himself going cross-eyed with Daniel's rapid-fire speech fueled by enthusiasm, but this was supersonic in comparison. Jack felt himself floundering.

_##Not depository of knowledge but seeker of . . . truth . . . what is truth . . . can't breathe! . . . ##_

Daniel's swell of panic in the face of apparent suffocation halted Jack's attempt to dig deeper to find both the energy and the knowledge to corral Daniel. Instead, he thought out to Daniel in a gentle singsong of _**You can breathe**_ over and over. To himself, he acknowledged it was pretty damned lame but better than nothing. Soon he was rewarded with a somewhat calmer Daniel.

Jackson took a moment to "look" around. _##Wow . . . fascinating . . . so many paths to take . . . secrets . . . hidden . . . so many dark spaces here . . . open 'em . . . new experiences . . .##_ Thinking the orb had downloaded a very small portion of Ancient knowledge, probably the equivalent of law books and trial transcripts, into his brain, he decided to explore.

It was O'Neill's turn to panic as Daniel worked tested the compartments, his vaults of memories and emotions he had hidden away for self-protection. _**Dammit, Daniel! Back the fuck off!**_

The voice warning Jackson to stay away barely registered on his consciousness; it was easy to ignore. No way was he going to let this opportunity for gaining more knowledge pass him by. His eagerness grew in leaps and bounds. _##Calm down! . . . knowledge . . . concentrate . . . stay . . .##_

Jack moaned, the agony rising even higher as Daniel continued to dig into his mind. It reminded him of the time that nasty snake of Hathor's tried to conquer him, but this was different. This was Daniel, and despite the pain he was inflicting, there was nothing malicious or evil about it.

Suddenly, Daniel breached a compartment wall and barged in, hoping to find something that would give him confirmation of his supposition that this was a mini-respository. Then: _##Painpainpainpain . . . humilitating . . . clamps on . . . why would anyone put clamps on . . . oh, my GOD!##_ He sobbed as he experienced the raw, burning pain of torture at the hands of an Iraqi soldier.

_**DANIEL!**_ Jack yelled at his hitchhiker. He moved to grasp his head between his hands, but they couldn't actually touch it; the aura of energy strings prevented that. Crippling nausea and vertigo rolled through him while he fought the pain that escalated even more because of Daniel's realization of where his mind was and the release of that specific horrific memory and so many more. He collapsed to one side and retched.

_##JACK!##_ Daniel's thoughts became disjointed and intensely harsh, filled with shame, panic, and self-recrimination now that he knew where he was and what he had accessed. These strong, negative emotions let slip something like a horde of berserkers intent on pillaging and plundering.

**_O sweet . . . fuck **me**__!_** Jack thought as his body went into hard, spastic twists that taxed every muscle and joint to its limit. He lost bladder control as well. In too much electric-dagger misery to think about that indignity, he began shedding rivers of tears to add to the drenching sweat.

Unable to contain verbalizing his misery any longer, O'Neill let out a howl that he figured would make a banshee ashamed of her keening.

One tiny corner of his mind laughed at that thought. How appropriate to think of banshees lamenting the approaching death of a member of one of the five great Gaelic families as he rushed toward his demise.

And Daniel's. That was unacceptable in the extreme.

So he tried harder.

HHHH

Teal'c had just finished asking Carter why it had remained dark for their explorations when O'Neill's blood-curdling screech echoed its way throughout the palace. Teal'c heard it before Carter did and took off for its source, Carter close on his heels.

The Jaffa arrived at the Veritatum several seconds ahead of Carter. The first thing he saw was O'Neill flat on his back, head encased in blue sparks, his body writhing. Immediately his eyes sought Daniel Jackson and found him on the platform, an unmoving heap. He chose to check on O'Neill.

Carter arrived and stopped to take in the situation. Teal'c waved her over to Daniel and said, "I believe DanielJackson requires your expertise more than O'Neill does at this moment."

She cast a worried glance at the colonel, so obviously in pain but moving, and ran for Daniel. Skidding to a halt beside him, she knelt and began her assessment.

Teal'c approached Jack with some hesitation. As he drew closer, he could see tears streaming from his friend's tightly closed eyes. There was no doubt that O'Neill was in a great amount of pain. He placed his staff weapon on the floor but still within reach should he need it quickly. Squatting, he reached for his friend and said soothingly, "It is I. How may -" O'Neill's eyes snapping open stopped him in mid-sentence and mid-reach.

Jack looked directly at the large, strong hand close―too close―to him. One part of him cried out for the touch and the warmth, strength, and reassurance that would come with it, but another part, buried deep, knew any contact would be catastrophic. "No touch!" he managed to rasp out. Once assured the hand remained still, he shifted his blurry gaze to look directly into Teal'c's worried eyes.

Now Teal'c's eyes opened wide at what he saw: instead of white, the sclerae of O'Neill's eyes were a very familiar shade of blue. A millisecond later, he knew why. He fell backwards to plop on the floor. "DanielJackson," he whispered with perplexed alarm. Though he found the sight and its implications quite unnerving, he couldn't bring himself to look away or move.

In the meantime, Sam had found that Daniel had a weak carotid pulse, virtually translucent skin, shallow respirations, and an impressive goose egg on his forehead at the hairline. After she had assured herself there was no obvious problem with his cervical spine, she gently repositioned his head so she could better perform a pupil check. She pulled up an eyelid and gasped loudly at what she didn't see: the beautiful blue of his irises. His eyes were stark white except for the black pupils.

She teetered at the discovery and promptly sat back on her heels to spare herself a fall. "Oh, my God," she said softly, too shocked and numb to gather up any steam to shout.

Teal'c heard the hushed declaration from SG-1's field medic even over the grunts and mewlings coming from O'Neill. "MajorCarter, something is wrong with O'Neill's eyes. What is the condition of DanielJackson's eyes?" he asked with a sense of urgency.

Carter instantly formed a hypothesis. "Are the colonel's now blue like Daniel's?" she shouted over her shoulder.

"Yes."

O'Neill mentally sighed with relief that the two of them had already figured out what happened. Not how, but he was sure that would come soon enough.

"I know this sounds impossible, but I think Daniel's mind is in Colonel O'Neill."

"I concur. This raises the question of how we may return it to its rightful place."

Daniel chose that moment to batter Jack with non-corporeal fists in an attempt to break out of an existence that had turned nightmarish with remembered torture. Jack shrieked again, not only from pain but from the memories of those shitty-beyond-description four months, and his body went stiff. "I . . . can . . . fix."

Immediately, Teal'c stood. "I will assist you, O'Neill."

"NO!"

Daniel "heard" the shout, recognized Jack in it, knew Jack had to be in this opened pit, no thanks to him, forced to endure the horrors again. Daniel renewed his efforts to escape, clawing and ripping and kicking. He wouldn't allow Jack to relive this any longer. He egged himself on with a mantra: ##__ . . .##

Again Jack screeched but was able to avoid the rigor. He smiled weakly to himself that he was finally getting the hang of this sharing thing, that he had the skills to control the situation somewhat. Where the hell they were coming from was still a mystery to him, and so unimportant at the moment. **_Danny, it's okay. I'm okay_,** he assured his friend. Aloud, he said, "No touch . . . must do . . . alone." He took a deep breath. "Order."

After just the slightest hesitation, Teal'c nodded.

**_Daniel, I'm going to get you home. You're safe here, though. Trust me._**

Despite the soothing, reassuring touch to Jack's thoughts, Daniel was so guilt-ridden because of his prying into Jack's well-guarded privacy that he tried even harder to leave, though unaware he was still assaulting Jack's mind.

O'Neill realized he finally had enough control to move with some purpose, though fine motor movement was out of the question. He flipped onto his belly, away from Teal'c to avoid accidentally touching him. The tac vest gave him some cushion from the P-90, but he still felt a fair amount of additional discomfort. That was insignificant to what Daniel was doing to his nervous system.

"Away," he said to Teal'c. As soon as the worried Jaffa took three paces back, Jack turned until his head was aimed for Daniel's body and the platform. He started to crawl to the obelisk, contorting his spasming body to inch forward.

Progress was painstakingly slow. He found it difficult to find purchase on the slick floor. Complicating matters, O'Neill had to stop every few centimeters to deal with a flare-up from Daniel. Sometimes he would grunt, sometimes mutter an "argh," sometimes wail. He'd take a few deep breaths then resume his approach. This made those nine days in the desert after his parachuting mishap seem like a cake walk.

Teal'c stayed at O'Neill's side, albeit several feet away. His face showed both his customary stoicism and the foreign helplessness. Carter, eyes glistening with unshed tears, had placed Daniel in recovery position and now held his unresponsive hand in one of hers, while the other kept track of his carotid pulse.

That pulse was becoming weaker and slower. This knowledge she kept to herself. The colonel was under enough pressure as it was; he didn't need to know Daniel was dying. He probably already knew that. She guessed he was dying as well, and he probably knew that, too.

Eventually, Jack got to the platform. Though it was only about six inches high, to him it seemed like Everest. In a blizzard. Covered with rusty spikes. With him naked and mortally wounded.

This was just too damn hard.

He was a soldier, expendable, sure to be dead within the next few minutes. Part of the deal when he signed up.

Then he reminded himself that Daniel hadn't signed up. And to Jack, Daniel certainly was not expendable. Daniel was a civilian and one of two national treasures he had the honor and privilege to serve with. And one of the best friends he'd ever had or was ever likely to have. He _had_ to finish this before Daniel's time ran out.

Suddenly, the platform seemed more like Mount McKinley. **_Almost there, Danny. Hang on_.** Jack cried softly when he realized there was nothing coming out of Daniel's brilliant mind.

Jackson had simply shut down all thoughts for a few moments to gather the strength he needed to get out. He launched an all-out battle to spare Jack and himself from any further torment of Jack's memories. He whimpered once he felt the exhaustion that was overtaking him.

Jack's cries turned to sobs, and his body seized from the assault. They would both be goners in scant minutes if he didn't get his butt moving.

Teal'c moved toward O'Neill. Carter bellowed, "NO!" in a perfect mimic of the colonel's command tone, instantly stopping Teal'c in his tracks. He took two steps back and nodded to Carter, his gratitude for the reminder shining through teary eyes.

Something―instinct? knowledge of his friend? that freakin' orb?―told Jack to try music. He started silently singing an Abydonian lullaby Daniel had taught him after the birth of Sha'uri's son, just in case they ever found the infant.

Daniel calmed in seconds but it seemed like a few eons to Jack. Next thing he knew, the seizure stopped but Daniel was too quiet. There was little more than a bluish buzz now, instead of the bright, intricate mind.

**_Dammit!_** he screamed to himself in fear that Daniel now had only seconds of life left. Jack hauled himself onto the platform with a resounding grunt. His head now felt drawn to Daniel's body. Unable to speak, he used his eyes to tell Carter to move out of the danger zone surrounding him and Daniel.

She complied immediately and moved off the dais. Both she and Teal'c stared in terrified wonder at the now wildly fluctuating, electrified, paling blue aura around O'Neill's head.

Jack's energy level was kissing zero but he wouldn't and couldn't give up. With nothing below his waist working any longer, he now propelled himself using only his wet hands.

Finally he was more or less equidistant between Daniel and the orb. With a feeble attempt at a deep breath while flat on his abdomen, he strained to touch the orb with one hand and Daniel with the other at the same time. If timing was off by a millisecond . . .

Subconsciously, Jack's mind covered itself for the transfer, automatically weaving a protective cloak around itself. This sucked up the last of his energy and all conscious control. His hands seemed to take on a mind of their own, acting in perfect concert to touch the orb and Daniel's fingertips simultaneously. He head snapped back and his mouth opened.

Carter flinched at the sight of their leader's Adam's apple bobbing furiously but emitting no sound.

The orb became translucent again, this time with a light gray tint. The aura around O'Neill's head quickly became thickly populated with numerous sparkling tangles. They gathered into a tight sheath, the exact color of Daniel's eyes, only less rich, around Jack's arm. The sheath then oozed down until it passed from Jack's hand to Daniel's.

Once there, the sheath picked up speed, as if it were in a rush to get home, and made straight for the archeologist's head. It unfolded around his face and hair. A few strands strayed to take positions elsewhere. A moment later, all of the blue strings entered his body.

The orb, now a semi-transparent brown, vanished into the obelisk and slowly changed color until it matched the obelisk. There were no indications that it even existed.

Jack's head fell forward and hit the hard platform before Teal'c could reach him.

Both Teal'c and Carter heard the crunch of bone. Carter grimaced. They stood still, paralyzed by indecision, within a foot of their unresponsive teammates.

Teal'c swallowed hard and asked quietly, "MajorCarter, do you believe it is safe to touch them now?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders, the scientist in her hating that she couldn't even make an educated guess. "I don't have a clue, Teal'c. But I don't see that we have a choice." She knelt by Daniel again.

Teal'c carefully placed his commander on his back. O'Neill's nose was bloody and misshapen. The scar in his left eyebrow was bloody as well. Almost immediately, he noticed the man wasn't breathing. He repositioned his head and rechecked for breathing as well as a pulse.

Nothing.

"MajorCarter, O'Neill does not draw breath nor does his heart beat. I will start resuscitation measures." Teal'c gave Jack two full breaths without pinching his friend's injured nose closed, unclipped the P-90 from its hanger, and opened O'Neill's vest. He began compressions, using only one hand as he feared in his rush of adrenaline two would likely cave in his friend's chest.

Sam had just determined that Daniel, too, was in full arrest. "Teal'c, on your own! Daniel's out as well," she said with false calm as she positioned her friend's head for rescue breaths. She pushed away the morbid thought that she would lose both of them, that the double loss would crush her spirit irreparably. She called on the eternal optimism of her commanding officer, who always pushed her to see Plan B or Plan C, or even Plan D.

_We will be successful_, she thought. She simply didn't know how they could do it this time.

At two minutes into their efforts, Teal'c called a halt for the reassessment of their teammates. His command, sounding roughly cold and clinical to an outsider, conveyed worry, concern, fear, desperation, and hope to Sam who could read him almost as well as O'Neill could.

"Nothing," Carter said. She resumed CPR, this time unable to keep the tears from falling.

"O'Neill's heart and lungs once again work on their own. I believe it is wise to take him to Stargate Command, with your permission. I will return immediately with assistance for you and DanielJackson."

Her heart thudded with relief at the news that the colonel was back with them. The relief switched too soon to anticipatory grief as her hope for Daniel began to fade with each compression. "Go. See ya soon," she said as she pumped away on Daniel's chest.

In seconds, Teal'c had Jack out of his tac vest and across his shoulders in a firefighter carry. "I'll be back."

Carter snorted a laugh at the dead-on impersonation of Schwarznegger delivering one of the oft-used _Terminator_ lines. And she loved him for knowing what she needed at that moment. It was a skill he's learned from O'Neill.

Then he and their leader were gone and it was just she and Daniel. She gave him a breath.

She rapidly buried any thought she had of stopping CPR once she became too exhausted to continue. Instead, she thought of a battered Jack O'Neill crawling through a desert for nine days, of him crawling just a short time ago to this platform in off-the-chart agony, of Daniel pushing himself to exhaustion to translate something that might save them, of Teal'c at top speed carrying O'Neill to the 'gate.

Suddenly, she didn't feel tired at all and she knew she'd last as long as Daniel needed her to give him second-hand life.

HHHH

Teal'c was not feeling kindly toward the Ancients for several reasons, and the foremost reason at the moment was the path to the Chappa'ai. Instead of a straight shot, which would've taken him all of five minutes to run even with O'Neill draped across his shoulders, the wide, paved path meandered, sometimes sharply, through what was once enchanting gardens. The gardens were beautiful still in a wild way, but were so overgrown and thick with undergrowth that any effort to go through them would have been impossible no matter what the mode of ground transportation was. It was nearly 15 minutes before the Jaffa reached the DHD.

Not willing to waste any time in returning to the SGC, Teal'c kept O'Neill just where he was. He took two huge breaths and pressed lightly on O'Neill's carotid artery. He closed his eyes for a moment in relief when he felt a strong, slow pulse.

He keyed his radio. "MajorCarter, this is Teal'c. It is unnecessary for you to respond. I have arrived at the dial-home device. Be assured O'Neill's heart beats. I will dial Earth in moments and shall return with others to assist you as soon as possible. Out."

As he pressed the glyphs, he wondered if they had made the correct decision to leave the major alone to resuscitate Daniel Jackson. By the time he punched the point of origin, though, he knew he had done what was necessary. There was no guarantee O'Neill's heart and lungs would continue to function on their own. Major Carter was strong and most determined when it came to treating her teammates and friends. She would stop only if she herself quit breathing.

He would be back long before that could happen.

The watery substance kawooshed and settled into a stable event horizon. His fingers entered his personal IDC, then stabbed the emergency button. He counted to three, checked O'Neill's pulse one more time, and ran up the stone steps and through the Chappa'ai.

HHHH

Carter's eyes filled with more tears on hearing the colonel was holding his own. That news, plus Teal'c's confident tone and promise of help and the knowledge that none of them would ever give up on her or Daniel, re-energized her.

She stopped to assess Daniel. Still no breath, no heartbeat. Lifting both eyelids, she saw that the sclerae were now blue and the color seemed to be gathering around the pupils, which weren't dilated or unequal, to her great relief.

She resumed CPR, banished the passage of time from her senses, and centered herself in a task she was honored to do. She'd kick herself about her lack of military demeanor later.

HHHH

Sergeant Hal St. John, the 'gate tech on duty, announced, "Unscheduled off-world activation," as soon as the 'gate clunked to life. Several moments later, the Security Forces began piling into the embarkation room and the officer on duty, Lieutenant Colonel Andrew Anthony, joined St. John in the control room.

"What ya got, Hal?" Anthony asked, groggy from having been awakened so abruptly from his snooze. He glanced at the chronometer: 0307 local time.

There was a brief silence while they waited, then: "It's SG-1, sir. Teal'c. And he's hit the emergency button!"

Anthony shook his head. Not good news with Teal'c sending the IDC; it was usually Doc Jackson or Major Carter. "Open the iris and call the infirmary. Tell 'em we need a team stat." He grabbed the microphone that transmitted to the 'gate room. "Heads up, fellas. Unknown emergency comin' through. Only thing for sure is it's Teal'c."

At that moment, Teal'c emerged from the wormhole. Without stopping, he declared, "O'Neill and DanielJackson have suffered the cessation of heart and lung functions but to my knowledge only O'Neill now sustains his own life." He stopped at the foot of the ramp and gently laid his friend on the cold steel. Two SFs rushed to help him. Anthony left the control room to join them.

As they situated the unconscious O'Neill into recovery position, Teal'c continued to speak. "You must redial PQ4-55X as soon as the Chappa'ai closes. I and others must return to assist MajorCarter." He opened Jack's right eyelid and was rewarded with seeing white again.

"Not so fast," said Anthony. "Tell me what happened first, okay? Are you hurt?" It was a reasonable question as the substance darkening one side of Teal'c's uniform was blood.

Teal'c's jaw muscles frantically contracted and his fists clenched tightly. Rather than argue with the human or perpetrate a mutiny, Teal'c replied, "An unknown event involving the likely transfer of DanielJackson's mind into the body of O'Neill transpired. It would appear that has been reversed. However, DanielJackson remains in cardiopulmonary arrest. I am uninjured. I must return _now_."

By then Amanda Brightman, the latest addition to the SGC's medical staff and a night owl quite happy to be on third shift, had entered the embarkation room along with several nurses and a stretcher. Brightman jogged to the ramp and began assessing her new patient. "Do what he says, Colonel. Teal'c, take the AED and the drug bag." The nurse holding those items handed them to the Jaffa. "You remember how to use it?"

Teal'c nodded. He tensed when he heard the 'gate shut down.

Anthony first shot Brightman a warning look, then Teal'c. He shrugged in resignation. Besides, he'd want someone to do the same for anyone on his team. "You heard 'em, Hal. Dial it up."

Teal'c bowed his head in thanks. He watched as the nurses placed O'Neill on a cardiac monitor and on a backboard as prelude to moving him to the stretcher.

"Dr. Boyle, who's been approved for off-world travel, will join you as soon as he's ready, along with a couple of nurses and a FRED," said Brightman as she studied O'Neill's rhythm. "Tell me what you can about what happened to the colonel before he arrested."

Teal'c, watching the inner ring of the Chappa'ai spin as if his doing so could make it go faster, relayed what he knew. He finished as the seventh chevron locked. "I know you and your team will take excellent care of my friend, Doctor Brightman." After touching O'Neill's shoulder, Teal'c nodded briskly at the physician and raced up the ramp and through the glimmering pool of plasma.

Brightman turned to one of the nurses. "Jerry, you'll be the primary on this one. Let's get the rhabdomyolysis protocol started but three IVs instead of two, a skull series, and a suture set ready to go."

HHHH

Carter was still doing compressions when Teal'c arrived. Without saying a word, the Jaffa opened the case holding the automated external defibrillator and readied the machine for use. He touched Carter's drenched back and for the first time really looked at Daniel.

Jackson was alabaster white, with blue lines on the outer curves of his lips. His head rolled back and forth like a bobblehead toy with each compression. The front of his shirt was damp, though it was from Carter's sweat.

When Carter didn't stop, Teal'c said quietly, "The device is ready for use."

Carter couldn't stop. She had convinced herself that if she did, Daniel would be lost―and it couldn't be her fault.

Calmly, Teal'c took her by both arms. He moved her far enough away from their teammate that she would be safe from any shock. Not surprisingly, she maintained her CPR position. She had done it for so long it was as if she were a sculpture.

Next, Teal'c ripped open Daniel's shirts. He positioned the pads and activated the defibrillator.

Miraculously, Daniel had a rhythm that could be treated. The machine eventually gave him three shocks over a couple of extraordinarily long minutes. After the third, it told them to check the patient as there was no longer a shockable rhythm.

Carter paled and gulped. She held her breath while Teal'c checked for pulses. After several decades―or so it seemed to her―Teal'c looked at her.

And grinned.

Her cramping, sore body shook with sobs of joy. To get a pulse after so long without one was nothing short of a miracle. Now she began to worry about the condition of his brain. Certainly he would have significant damage.

She couldn't think about about that. Instead, she asked Teal'c, "Is he breathing?"

"Yes, though each breath is shallow."

"Can you start the IV? I don't think I can handle it right now."

"Indeed." He had already started digging the necessary supplies from the drug bag. As he assembled the pieces, he thought of the wisdom of their team leader, who had insisted some years ago that he, Daniel, and Teal'c learn how to use the AED, perform CPR, and start IVs in case Carter needed those interventions or she wasn't available. _You have saved DanielJackson's life this day by your foresight, O'Neill_.

With the crisis under control, the adrenaline shut off in Carter, leaving her a quivering, exhausted, sweaty mess. She curled up on her side to face her two friends. She didn't last long enough to see Teal'c confidently poke a needle in the crease of Daniel's elbow.

HHHH

Brightman and her team had O'Neill settled in record time. They pumped him full of normal saline, lactated ringer's and IV dextrose solutions and hooked him up to all kinds of monitors, including a continuous electroencephalogram. The eyebrow laceration was cleaned and stitched, the broken nose x-rayed, set, protected, and iced. They inserted an arterial line and set up a schedule for blood work.

And they readied the space for Dr. Jackson, right next to Colonel O'Neill.

Throughout this entire time, there had been no response from O'Neill. And Brightman was completely flummoxed by the bizarre waveforms she read on the EEG. She took a moment to notify the neurologist on call that he was needed ASAP. Shortly after that, the horns sounded and were immediately followed by the announcement of an unscheduled off-world activation.

A stressed and perspiring Teal'c entered the infirmary ahead of the team caring for Doctor Jackson. He carried Major Carter in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, arms around his neck. A nurse escorted the two to a bed opposite O'Neill's. Brightman joined them and performed a hurried assessment of the major. When Teal'c informed her that Carter had done CPR for more than 30 minutes straight, Brightman's biggest concern became the swollen, bruised heels of her hands and what would be very sore muscles when she woke. The doctor ordered ice packs and elevation, along with an IV for hydration.

Within a quarter-hour, Daniel Jackson was next to Jack, intubated and on a ventilator and hooked up to his own monitors. His EEG tracing was not unexpected; waveforms were barely discernable.

Brightman decided to call in General Hammond and Janet Fraiser early. They'd want to be here when Daniel Jackson was officially declared brain dead.

HHHH

Air Force Colonel Anson Markham, M.D. and Board-certified neurologist, was stumped but intrigued.

Dr. Jackson's EEG indicated very little electrical activity in his brain. Yet his brain stem reflexes were strong. His spontaneous breaths were good enough that they had extubated him. The CT scan showed extensive damage but the MRI revealed a normal brain.

As for Colonel O'Neill's EEG tracings, they looked like nothing he'd ever seen. And the man's CT and MRI scans were totally unreadable. It was as if his brain was blocking any intrusion from the machines.

So Markham canceled all his appointments for the near future and, with the SGC medical staff and Teal'c, waited and watched.

HHHH

Janet Fraiser was vaguely positive she'd seen brain waves like the colonel's before; she just couldn't place when and in whom. By midnight, she remembered.

Once in the solitude of her office, she opened the locked cabinet that held encrypted CDs of SGC personnel health information―information considered too classified to risk being on a network server or on paper. She woke up her computer and keyed in her username and password, inserted the CD she's selected, and typed in yet another username and password.

She chose one of Colonel O'Neill's files―the EEG readings from when he had the knowledge of the Ancients in his head. And there it was: though not identical, there was now no doubt in her mind that the electrical activity he was having now was close enough to be considered Ancient.

Stunned and slumping in her chair, she realized that they had lost him. It was only a matter of time before his body followed.

She jerked when an insistent knock on her door filled the office. Markham, not waiting for permission, stuck his head in and said with great excitement, "Colonel O'Neill's having short runs of beta and theta waves!"

Fraiser gulped in disbelief. _How can this be? Is his brain concentrating on repressing something? Maybe I'm wrong and it's not Ancient influence . . ._ Hurriedly, she ejected the disc, refiled it, and locked the cabinet. She ran to join her colleagues.

HHHH

Twenty-four hours after Daniel Jackson's mind found its way into Jack O'Neill, Jack started his climb to consciousness. He heard lots of beeping and hushed voices. He felt itchy beneath the electrodes on his head and chest. And a burning ache all over his body. And more.

Including being alone in his head, pretty much back to its usual quiet and simple existence. Kinda like Tetris, it seemed to him. No more experiencing that incredible, leaping, complex mind of Daniel Jackson first-hand. Though he had hated it when Daniel suffered. That was the hardest thing in the whole ordeal.

**_Daniel?_** As if he were suddenly telepathic. And as if Daniel could hear him.

Then he'd fade for some unknown length of time. Each time he rose, everything he heard and felt, especially that damn penlight, became a little more intense, a little closer.

He finally opened his eyes to slit width at the urging of Fraiser's voice. "Doc?" he whispered.

"Colonel, it's good to hear your voice. How are you?" Her haggard face managed to show her joy at his arousal.

As if she couldn't figure out he had the mother of all headaches, a profound loathing of light, and a mouth inhabited by filthy cobwebs, along with a way-too-generous smattering of general aches and pains. "Daniel?"

The delight left her face. Telling him Daniel's prognosis wasn't going to be easy. But he'd hound her until she did. She looked down and away from him. "Not good, sir. He's in a coma and probably has severe brain damage." She sighed and leaned in closer. "He's dying, Jack," she said softly.

There it was―the truth without any sugar coating, just the way he liked it, even demanded it.

At the same moment Jack thought he had failed Daniel, he was grabbed by a powerful urge to touch him. "_No!_ Push me to him. _Now_."

Janet stood straight, the authority in his tone leaving no question it was an order that she sure as hell better follow.

Teal'c, who had been standing at the foot of O'Neill's bed, moved before Janet could. In his heart, the Jaffa knew O'Neill would be the key to bringing Daniel Jackson the rest of the way back to them. O'Neill simply hadn't been able to finish whatever he had started in the room of Truth. He had the side rails down the beds shoved together, leaving Fraiser and one of the nurses to try to keep up with moving some of the equipment.

The commotion awakened Carter, who had been sleeping most of the time since she'd crashed on the planet. Bleary-eyed, she pushed the button to raise the head of her bed to better see what was going on.

"Daniel," Jack whispered as he looked at the pale, lax face. He stretched his arm out but couldn't quite reach the archeologist. "T?" he said without taking his eyes off Daniel.

Teal'c helped O'Neill move to the edge of the mattress. The Jaffa stepped away, deciding to play it safe and not touch O'Neill when he touched Jackson.

Jack reached out, this time able to touch Daniel's head. He ripped away a number of the electrodes, frowning when he say a couple of them had more than a few of Daniel's hairs still attached to them. He stroked Daniel's head, careful to avoid the latest lump the archeologist had acquired, a few times before letting his hand come to a rest. He said, "Danny, I'm sorry about all this. I should've stopped us from even going in there." He closed his eyes and wished with every molecule of his being that Daniel's brain would return to its normal, irritating, genius self. Soon, he felt the oddest thing.

An extremely pleasurable warmth flowed all over him, then his hand became icy and hot at the same time. He could see Daniel's starved, damaged neurons barely firing. He felt that icy heat leave him and _heard_ it bathe Daniel's brain and seep into all its nooks and crannies. Suddenly, he experienced a flood of brightness that smelled, tasted, and colored like lemon that lasted only a heartbeat. He passed out and his hand slipped off Daniel's head.

During this entire time, Markham was glued to watching O'Neill's EEG readouts. Silently, he bid Fraiser join him in doing so herself. They saw every channel awash in those unidentifiable waveforms. They increased in speed and amplitude, then changed to beta and theta waves at the same time O'Neill returned to unconsciousness. A minute or so later, there were only delta waves.

Markham turned to Fraiser. "What the hell did we see and what did it mean?"

Janet shrugged. "Hell if I know, Anson."

HHHH

Once again, O'Neill was unresponsive―not a peep out of him for over an hour. Janet now doubted that whatever had happened and was currently happening in his brain was related to the Ancient download. If it were, he never would have awakened after what he'd been through, much less speak in English. And since he woke up once, chances were good he'd do it again. But she couldn't be sure one way or another. This was all so . . . alien.

Daniel Jackson was another story. Nothing seemed to have changed since Jack talked to touched him. Not even the positioning of their beds. Teal'c had forbidden anyone to separate them. No one, including General Hammond, was about to cross the determined warrior on this matter.

Janet pulled her eyes away from Jack and Daniel and their monitors to look at Sam. She was working too hard to maintain her military composure, so much so that she had dark circles beneath her eyes and her lower lip was chapped and swollen from her near-constant gnawing of it even in her sleep.

Fraiser sighed and wallowed in her helplessness, wracking her brain to come up with something to do over and above simply supporting Jack and Daniel's lives.

Markham's throat-clearing caught her attention. "Look at this, Janet." He pointed to Daniel's EEG tracings.

Every channel showed increasing activity and a variety of waveforms. Daniel's brain had gone from almost no electrical activity for nearly 48 hours to a growing riot of waves. Minutes later, all channels showed delta waves.

That's when Janet saw some rapid eye movement beneath Daniel's closed lids. His skin color started to return to normal. His breathing got deeper.

Daniel was coming back to them. How or why, she had no idea.

Sam's voice broke into the physician's thoughts. "Janet, is he waking up?"

HHHH

It was so dark and confusing. He was so befuddled, he didn't know time or space or self. He, without substance, wandered and circled in murky brownness, locked inside something and nothing.

Then something changed. He felt a wondrously pleasant shock of warm energy swaddle him, orient him, invigorate him with the scent of lemon, and put him on the road to substance and self.

He was becoming himself again. Whole. Alive.

His first awareness of other was, "Janet, is he waking up?" The familiar voice of a friend he loved so much. "Sam."

He wasn't sure if he spoke or thought it. Until another familiar voice, another friend he loved very much, whispered in his ear. "That's right, Daniel. Good to have you back with us."

He smiled weakly, sensed that Jack and Teal'c were nearby, and fell into a peaceful sleep.

HHHH

The next time Daniel awoke, it was to Sam's voice again.

". . . electromagnetic fields. Maybe somehow that device disrupted their EM fields in such a way that Daniel's consciousness entered Colonel O'Neill. The colonel seemed to know that he had to touch Daniel to finish returning them both back to normal."

"I don't know, Sam," he heard Janet say. "That doesn't fit. If their EM fields had been disrupted, there would've been some interference with the equipment."

"What about the MRI scans?"

In the time it took Sam to ask that question, Daniel had the answer. He licked his dry lips and muttered, "Zatarc."

"Daniel!" Sam and Janet exclaimed in delighted unison. A moment later, there was a spoon at his lips. "Ice," Janet said.

Gratefully, he opened his mouth and accepted the chips. They melted in seconds. He sighed and repeated, "Zatarc."

Sam got what he was trying to say. "But, Daniel, that thing didn't even come close to a looking like a zatarc detector, much less acting like one."

He nodded once. "_Like_ a detector. In a room called 'truth.' Must've been part of their justice system."

"Of course!" said Carter. "So, the Ancient device allows the actual sharing of consciousness to determine truth rather than reading the subconscious and comparing it to the conscious memory like the zatarc detector does." She paused. "Wow. Sounds very dangerous."

The conversation suddenly had Daniel vaguely remembering something bizarre, but nothing specific. "Jack? I was inside Jack?" he asked, though there was an element of statement in the question.

"Yes, Daniel, we believe so. And he's doing okay," said Janet as she squeezed his hand. "He suffered a lot of muscle strain that caused some breakdown but it's not life-threatening." She didn't tell him he hadn't regained consciousness since just before Daniel came to the first time.

Daniel slid back to sleep with that reassurance and to the cool, soft touch of Sam's hand holding his.

HHHH

One day later, Daniel was discharged from the infirmary. He spent most of the next three days near Jack, which was how long it took O'Neill to wake up. Daniel began asking questions about Jack's side of their shared experience as soon as Jack was awake enough to be coherent, until Jack shot him a glare. "Not much to tell, Daniel. The old memory's pretty much Swiss cheese, only with more holes than cheese," he lied. Somewhat mollified, Daniel dropped his probe and started filling Jack in on the hypotheses everyone had put forth.

Jack listened with one ear, pleased with Daniel's enthusiasm and apparent lack of memory. He couldn't bear Daniel knowing how Daniel had battered him and intruded on some of his darkest memories. How Jack's failure to fight whatever it was that kept him from speaking and aborting the mission and compelled him to continue had nearly cost them their lives.

One more day went by and Jack's IVs and feeding tube were out and he was discharged as well, with an appointment to join his team in the commissary as soon as he'd finish with Doc Fraiser.

So he knocked on her office door and opened it when he heard her say, "Come on in."

"What's up, Doc? What do we have to talk about in private?"

Fraiser sighed. "Have a seat, Colonel. I have a few questions."

O'Neill cocked an eyebrow and lowered himself in the chair opposite his favorite physician.

"Colonel, I'll get right to the point. Do you still have the Ancient download in there somewhere?" She tapped her own head a few times.

O'Neill's eyes widened. "What? NO!" He wrestled into submission the fear that popped up and was churning around in his gut. "I mean, no way. The Asgard took it out." He paused. "Didn't they?"

"I don't know for certain, sir. The reason I'm asking is because there was a time there when your brain waves looked an awful lot like the waves you had when you had the download. But this time you didn't speak Ancient and you didn't die. It's possible the knowledge is still there. Actually, I think it's likely, because I don't think knowledge can be removed, even with the most advanced technology. At best, it can be . . . blocked."

"But, Doc, we are talking about the _Asgard_. We can't even _imagine_ their technology." Now Jack was feeling sick. And betrayed. "They wouldn't lie to me. To _us_. We're _allies_, for cryin' out loud."

"We weren't allies when you met them. Maybe they put in a block and told you the knowledge was gone to protect you."

"Or they were afraid I would use it against them. How could they know if I was a peaceful human?"

"Exactly."

"So, what happened in that building?"

"I don't know, sir. If I'm right and the repository is still there, maybe something about the building knocked a hole in the block and let a little bit of that knowledge through. From what Teal'c and Sam have told me, you knew what to do _and_ you were acting a bit off even before entering the building." Fraiser paused to let that sink in before she dropped her next bombshell. "That's not all, sir. I think you played a major role in healing Daniel, and it wasn't just your EM fields finally returning to normal."

Jack stared at her as the pit of his stomach clenched into a hard ball. The download had to be gone. There must be some other explanation, some other reason for the freaky brain waves and Daniel getting better. If the download was still there, then he was fish food for the great white shark called NID.

Hell, if the repository was still there, then he was way closer to death-by-hostile-Ancient-takeover than he cared to be. Even worse, then he should give up command of SG-1 rather than risk their lives.

"Doc, what are the chances that something like this will happen again?"

Janet shook her head. "Your guess is as good as mine, sir. I just don't have enough information, though I suspect it was a fluke. In my opinion, you probably are in no more danger one way or the other. Now that this has happened, you'll recognize it should it happen again and be prepared to handle it."

O'Neill smiled to himself; she had known that he was really asking about the safety of his team. An increased risk was there, but so miniscule that it was buried by his contribution of keeping Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel together, focused, and alive. He stood, decision made, posture full of confidence. "As far as this matter is concerned, the Asgard told me the truth. Thanks for your input, Doc, but seems to me to be pretty much speculation. This will remain between the two of us and unofficial." His stony expression masked his fear that she wouldn't agree and that he'd become Colonel Guinea Pig, doomed to be stuck in a lab on Earth for the rest of his unnatural life and not out there ensuring his teammates continued to save the planet.

Fraiser wasn't surprised. The colonel was protecting himself and his team, whether he believed he still had the download or not. And she would protect him as well, starting by "losing" his EEG tracings from earlier this week, even though it violated ethical and legal standards. She'd live with it somehow. Try to remember that her ethical duty to protect him and the rest of SG-1 was more important than ethics and law in this case and in the whole scheme of things.

"Yes, sir."

~)end(~

Thanks to CoriKay for the excellent beta. Because of her, this a much better story.


	9. I is for Immolation

**I is for Immolation**

Mid-Season 1; this mission occurs just before _Fire and Water_

Ho-Masubi is a Japanese goddess (or god, depending on the source) of fire.

You might want to read my story _G is for Gourmet_, as this story alludes to it, though this story does stand alone.

Warning: Dark; could be disturbing to a lot of people. Can't say more for fear of giving away the story.

Thanks to CoriKay for the beta.

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Colonel Jack O'Neill asked, taking great pains to show his belligerence and leveling his MP5 at waist level.

Makato, the leader of the native population of P3R-499, bowed his head and smiled graciously, seemingly unperturbed by O'Neill's less-than-tactful attitude. "Forgive me for not making clear our customs, most honored visitor-leader. Please allow me to repeat them using different words in hopes of bringing you to a full understanding."

O'Neill had understood the leader the first time; he just wanted confirmation that he had heard what Makato had said. How a people that appeared so civilized, peaceful, and hospitable could even have _any_ penalty for such a minor transgression made absolutely no sense to him, or to the rest of SG-1. It horrified them all, as well as instilled fear in a shivering Daniel Jackson, who had been doused with some fluid that smelled a lot like kerosene.

IIII

_74 hours earlier in the SGC Conference Room_

"This is the video of P3R-499 that the MALP shot a few hours ago," said SG-1's archeologist. The rest of the team and General Hammond saw a wide path that was lined by pillars leading away from the Stargate. The pillars were tall and ornate, golden in color, and the bowls on the tops flickered with flames. In the distance they could make out a few buildings but couldn't discern any details.

"A little pretentious for my taste, but the welcome seems warm enough," O'Neill said matter-of-factly.

Hammond and Captain Carter snickered quietly under their breaths. Jackson, undaunted, continued.

"Sam enhanced a few frames and we got this." Two clicks of the remote and they were looking at a still of Japanese architecture. Teal'c leaned forward slightly in his chair. Jack, having noticed the subtle move in the otherwise statue-like Jaffa, turned his full attention to Teal'c. Shortly after that, so did Hammond and Carter.

"From what we can see, it appears to be a 15th-century Japanese . . ." Daniel spoke the last word slowly once he realized he had lost his audience. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Teal'c? You know this place. This planet."

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill. I was there many years ago for a short time, before I became First Prime of Apophis. Nihon, a most beautiful world, is known to all Goa'uld. It is one of several worlds ruled by Ho-Masubi –"

"Uh, uh, Japanese goddess of fire," interjected Daniel.

Teal'c nodded once. "Ho-Masubi was a Goa'uld known for her more lenient ways in the treatment of her Jaffa and slaves. She was tolerated by the System Lords merely because her planets supply the greatly desired gilded torches used throughout their ships and buildings."

Hammond, unaccustomed to such a long speech by the Jaffa, had to shake himself to respond. "Teal'c, you said, '_was_ tolerated.' Are we to understand she's dead?"

"There is speculation that is the case, as no one has neither seen nor heard from her in many decades. No Goa'uld known to me has attempted to conquer her worlds, as the artisans continue to fulfill their contracts."

"What was your business there, Teal'c?" Hammond asked.

"A delivery was late. I, among others, was sent to . . . facilitate completion of the transaction." Teal'c stiffened ever so minutely and shifted in his chair.

"I see," Hammond said evenly after the unspoken details filled themselves in. "What can you tell us about these people?"

"They were quite hospitable and accommodating. I do not believe they would pose a threat to visitors."

"General, I think this is a mission for SG-1," Jack said. "These folks could help us go on the offensive. We could ask them to plant explosives in their . . . doodads. Or ask that some of our people join their ranks so they could gather some intel. At the very least, maybe they would agree to include some sort of surveillance or tracking in their torches so we'd know who was coming uninvited to dinner."

"It would take some doing, but with Teal'c's knowledge and help, we could design a transmitter that would give us an earlier warning of any approach to Earth than what we have now, sir," Carter offered.

Teal'c cocked his head in agreement. "I believe it may be worth examining the possibility of forming such an alliance with Ho-Masubi's people."

Hammond said nothing for a few moments, his face a study in contemplation. "SG-1, looks like you got yourselves a mission. You gate out in"-he checked his watch-"48 hours."

"Excuse me, General?" Daniel piped up.

"Yes, Dr. Jackson?"

"If these people are as steeped in tradition and formality as I think they are, we could use a little more time to prepare. We wouldn't want to offend them. And I think it would be good idea to find out why Ho-Masubi was so different from other Goa'ulds."

"Of course, Dr. Jackson. How much time will you need?"

IIII

_74 hours later_

Daniel Jackson was running out of time. Automatically, O'Neill had inserted himself between Daniel and Makato and the crowd that was changing to a mob. An orderly, vaguely threatening mob, but a mob nonetheless. As soon as someone had showered Daniel with that unknown but undoubtedly flammable liquid, Jack had ordered Carter to help Daniel get out of his contaminated gear and to pour all the water in their canteens over their teammate. Once that was done, she too had un-safed her rifle and chose a different field of fire than the colonel's. Teal'c readied to use his staff weapon as a ram; he hadn't primed it for fear of a spark igniting Jackson.

All the while, they had listened, at first unbelieving then sickened when they realized Makato was serious, to the leader's proclamation: Daniel Jackson and the young boy Kin must burn for their breaches of Nihon law.

Now the colonel, motioning the soaked Daniel to back away, glowered at Makato's lightly disguised condescension. "You don't have to repeat anything, Makato. You made your point. Not gonna happen, though. As a _civilized_ man, I'm just finding your _laws_ and the punishments for violating them a little on the barbaric side. For cryin' out loud, that kid just tripped!"

"The circumstance surrounding the touching for which there was no request and no permission is not important. It is the touching only that matters. All involved must do as the law requires."

"No, we don't and hey, _here's_ a thought. You don't have to, either! Ever hear of mercy? A pardon? Or making the punishment fit the crime?"

Daniel forced himself out of his stunned stupor when he heard the escalating anger in Jack's tone. "Makato, please!"

The interruption was enough to throw Jack off his tirade. "Daniel," he warned.

Daniel ignored him. "Makato, we have customs and laws that are very different from yours. We value each life, as you do, but we would only take a life if our own were in danger. Colonel O'Neill is simply asking you to consider alternatives."

"Daniel-san, you and your leader are asking our people to ignore our ways that have served us well for many years." Makato paused for a moment. "In the short time you have been with us, you have been following our customs. Why would you not follow this one as well?"

"Because it makes no sense!" Jack shouted, his frustration showing.

"Jack," Daniel said quietly and soothingly.

It worked to calm him down, but only marginally. "How can you expect me to set my friend on fire? For _any _reason?" Jack couldn't think of one. Even Daniel or Carter getting snaked couldn't justify that. He'd shoot them, since Thor's Hammer was no longer an option, or imprison them, but burn them? Never. Nor would he let them be burned. Under _any_ circumstances. "And Kin's _mother_ has to torch him? Now I know why none of the Go'uld ever tried to take this place over. You're worse than they are."

Daniel cringed as the mob became acutely more agitated. The insult Jack had just uttered might actually cost him his own life. All this because a pre-adolescent boy intrigued by Daniel's glasses strayed too close and grabbed onto the archeologist's leg to keep from landing on the ground. And because Daniel had naturally helped the boy regain his footing. He knew the thought of Kin's fate was torturing Jack. Of course, it was torturing all of them, but Jack more so.

Silent and shivering, Kin, soaked to the skin with the same fluid they'd used on Daniel, stood to his leader's left and back several paces. His big, almond eyes showed defeat and resignation.

O'Neill felt himself slipping into killer mode as his heart was being chewed up in a corroded meat grinder. By the time he had tamed that beast enough to maintain control, his weapon was at his shoulder and aimed at Makato's head.

"Jack, NO!" pleaded Daniel.

O'Neill ignored him. "Here's how this is gonna play out, Macadoo. You and your little flock of sheep are going to let us leave. No lighting matches, no flicking Bics, no fire or sparks of any kind. You're gonna let us take Kin with us. As long as he's not here, it'll be easy to pretend he's dead."

Carter and Teal'c tensed further, ready to follow O'Neill's lead. Daniel exhaled and closed his eyes in relief. There was still a chance no one would get hurt.

Makato hesitated, giving SG-1 hope that he was at least considering O'Neill's terms. Then he waved both hands in toward himself. In less than a second, Kin was surrounded by a wall of people. Several torches flamed to life for the sole purpose of dealing a hideous, inhumane death.

"No."

The air practically crackled from the spike in tension at Makato's single word.

Jack's finger twitched on the trigger as he weighed his decision: massacre dozens of people to try to maybe save one boy and Daniel or cut and run and very likely save Daniel. His soul was terribly close to jumping in after his heart in that meat grinder.

He made his choice.

"Sir?" "Jack?"

Carter and Daniel's simultaneous and tentative questions came just as he opened his mouth to issue orders. "Carter, give Teal'c your '5, then take my sidearm. Get Daniel to the 'gate. Shoot anyone who even _looks_ hot. We'll cover you."

"Jack, what are you going to do? You can't kill all these people!"

"Not your concern, Daniel. Captain?" O'Neill said brusquely.

"Yes, sir," she answered crisply and gave Teal'c her machine pistol. She was shaking on the inside, though she hid it well. She had learned recently about the colonel's son tragic death, and Kin was close in age to Charlie when he died. All this led her to the logical notion that his judgment was likely impaired. As she slipped his Beretta out of its holster, she asked, "What are you going to do, sir?"

Without taking his eyes off the mob, he replied, "My job, Captain. Now do yours."

Carter felt the heat of his rage despite the coldness of his tone. She couldn't look at the natives, suspecting that so many would be dead or wounded in a matter of minutes. For a split second, she considered relieving him of command. That idea vanished because she had no evidence other than her feelings that he was about to slaughter all these people. "Yes, sir. Come on, Daniel."

"No. I'm not going until Jack promises me he won't hurt anyone."

Roughly twenty men began advancing slowly, tentatively, toward them at another signal from Makato.

Both O'Neill and Teal'c zeroed in on those approaching them. Thanks to every second Daniel and Carter delayed their retreat, the situation was becoming more and more uncontrollable. "Carter, get him out of here _now_."

The menacing growl that inhabited O'Neill's command left no doubt in anyone's mind that he was to be obeyed at once. "Go, Daniel," she ordered and pushed him away from the crowd and in the direction of the 'gate.

Shocked by her terseness, Jackson didn't resist. His gut twisted in sadness and revulsion at what was going to happen to those people. He appreciated the fact that Jack would do anything to protect him, as well as Sam and Teal'c, but not this. Those people's blood would be on both their hands.

After a few steps, they heard Jack shout, "Run!" immediately followed by the deadly chatter of two machine pistols.

They ran.

IIII

Fortunately, they weren't very far from the Stargate. Daniel reached the DHD first, but couldn't dial because he trembled with anguish, his mind forming a picture of the killing field sowed by Jack. His _friend_. He shook because he had to face the fact he'd been wrong about Jack changing. He was still the cold-hearted black ops soldier who lived by "See a threat and kill it."

Carter's vision was blurry from unshed tears. She was grateful for one thing: she didn't see the carnage wrought by her commanding officer. This was simply not what she signed up for.

"Carter!"

Hearing her name shouted from a distance jolted her out of her morbid thoughts. She started dialing Earth.

The 'gate swooshed open, bathing the world in front of it a bright, almost warm glow and giving the flames nearest it an eerie, sparky look. By the time she'd finished entering her IDC, the colonel and Teal'c, both breathless from the breakneck pace they'd set, had joined them. Carter and Daniel stared accusingly at O'Neill, the devastated, haunted look in his eyes not registering through their pain and disappointment.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind from the direction of the village hit them. It smelled heavily of cordite, with a faint but unmistakable undertone of something cloying, acrid, and putrid. It filled their nostrils, fired up their olfactory nerves, and burned into their brains.

Sam recognized the stench. Human flesh. The first time she'd smelled it was in Iraq. She hoped this would be the last time. With great effort, she held back the vomit that begged to come out.

"Oh, my God. They burned him," she said softly.

Daniel's knees folded, but Sam was able to catch him before he dropped.

"Not far behind us. Let's go."

Daniel, quivering in disappointment with Jack, gaped at the colonel's simple, unemotional statement. "You haven't really changed, Jack," he accused. "You -"

By now, O'Neill had his breath fully back. "Not the time or place to discuss my shortcomings, Dr. Jackson," he interrupted. "Either go through the damn 'gate or I'll _throw_ you through it."

"Yes, _sir_."

The disrespect in Daniel's tone toward O'Neill angered Teal'c. "DanielJackson, you assume too much. We must leave now or we will all die," he declared, barely keeping his tongue civil.

Carter grabbed Daniel by his sleeve and hauled him up the steps and through the 'gate. Teal'c and O'Neill were right behind them.

IIII

"Welcome back, SG-1. You weren't gone . . . What is that smell?" Hammond asked as the dispirited team trudged down the ramp.

"Close the iris!" yelled O'Neill, his eyes focused on the control room. He looked at Hammond. "Pissed-off natives, General. And speaking of pissing, if you'll excuse me, sir, I have to do just that." He handed his MP5 to an SF and left the embarkation room.

The fact that O'Neill didn't wait for permission, along with the look of disquiet in his eyes and the minute tremors of his body, troubled Hammond. When he turned his attention back to the remaining members, he knew with absolute certainty that this mission had failed miserably. "Captain Carter, perhaps you can hold off long enough on answering a call from Mother Nature to tell me what the hell happened. Including why Dr. Jackson smells like he's been swimmin' in kerosene and is missing a couple articles of clothing." In addition to that and the cordite, there was another odor, much fainter, that he was all too familiar with. He hoped the air scrubbers were working at peak efficiency. He didn't want that horrendous stench to trigger a flashback for him or any other combat veteran on base.

"Yes, sir." Quickly and succinctly, she relayed their experience on the planet. She concluded with, "Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c provided cover so I could get Daniel to the 'gate safely. You'll have to ask one of them how many casualties there were among the locals."

Teal'c's jaw muscles worked furiously as the Tau'ri leader turned his gaze to him. "There was but one casualty of which I am aware, GeneralHammond. The boy. O'Neill and I fired our projectile weapons above their heads. Most of them dropped to the ground. It was enough to expose the boy to O'Neill once more." Teal'c was gratified to see that Hammond and Carter's expressions immediately changed to reveal their somber comprehension of what he'd said, of what O'Neill had done. Not surprisingly, his civilian friend took a moment longer.

"He killed Kin rather than let him burn alive," Daniel whispered, his voice cracking on every word. "And they burned him anyway."

"Indeed."

"Oh, God. Jack," Daniel said as the realization hit that this had to be tearing his best friend into a thousand combustible pieces. Frantic, he raced out of the 'gate room to find Jack, leaving a trail of watered-down kerosene droplets behind him.

Hammond sighed. Any thought of reprimanding the colonel for not following protocol evaporated like a drop of water on a hot rock. Seeing that Carter was near tears and the Jaffa was more solemn than usual, he made a decision. "Get to the infirmary for your post-mission check, then take the rest of the day off. We'll debrief at 0900 in the morning. Captain, see to it that Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson get their checks done and inform them about the meeting."

IIII

Jack headed straight for the gym. Only two others were there-Ferretti and one of the female nurses he had started working out with during his recovery from injuries sustained during the second Abydos mission.

As soon as Jack's old friend saw him, read the rippling tension of his muscles, the stiffness of his walk, the clinch of his jaw, the torment in eyes that wouldn't fully meet his, he knew Jack needed space and time. "Gym's all yours, Jack. Marcie and I were just finishing up." She nodded her understanding and they left. Ferretti stood guard at the closed door while Marcie jogged off to make a sign advising everyone that the gym was temporarily closed.

Jack ripped off the tac vest and let it fall to the floor. He stopped briefly at a locker where he swapped his fingerless field gloves for a pair of gel-filled ones. He yanked them on, and began trying to pound the stuffing out of the heavy bag.

_Did the kid a favor._

Jab. Jab. Left hook.

_Better he die quickly from a bullet to the brain than take a lot longer to burn to death._

Jab. Combination. Right uppercut. Jab.

_So easy. Compensate for wind speed and direction. So close won't matter much._

Combination. Four quick jabs. Two hits with his left forearm.

_Aim. Head. Probably should go center mass with several grouped shots. Might take too long to die that way. Breathe in through mouth, exhale through nose. Hold it._

A flurry of jabs. Right uppercut. Left hook.

_Squeeze the trigger. New eye. Too easy._ "Too goddamn easy!"

A torrent of jabs, faster, harder, until his hands and arms and shoulders ached. Yet he kept punching, welcoming the ache that began spiraling into an agony that rivaled the misery in his soul.

IIII

Marcie was smoothing the sign she'd just taped to the gym door when she and Lou heard the colonel's shouted words. They exchanged worried looks.

"Jack's okay, Marcie. He's just working something out. I've seen him like this before," Ferretti half-lied. He had seen Jack like this, just not this . . . intense.

"Lou!" Daniel shouted from a short distance down the hall. He skidded to a halt at Ferretti's side. "That was Jack I heard, wasn't it? How could you leave him alone? Couldn't you tell he was really upset?"

"Hey, Daniel, slow down and get a grip!"

Realizing he was unjustly angry with Lou, Daniel took several deep breaths. "Sorry. I'm just . . . concerned. Jack, uh, shot a young boy off-world less than an hour ago."

Marcie, who didn't know the colonel's history, instantly despised the man she had come to respect. She spun on her heels and left, tears already streaming down her face.

It wasn't until Marcie was almost out of sight that a dismayed Ferretti finally said, "Oh, shit. Daniel, I didn't know."

"You couldn't, Lou. It's not like Jack will ever say anything about it except what he has to when we debrief." Daniel hugged himself. "I have to talk to him. I thought he'd killed the villagers. I didn't trust him. In so many words, I accused him of mass murder."

"Daniel, Jack does the right thing a lot more often than he does the wrong thing. And that's saying something considering what he's had to do in the military."

"I'm just learning that about him." Daniel straightened until his shoulders were back and his chest was out. "Give us some privacy?"

Lou nodded and opened the door for Daniel to enter the gym.

IIII

Jack was so focused on trying to bury his hands in the heavy bag and to obliterate the vision of the back of Kin's head spraying blood, bone, and brain that he didn't hear the door open.

Daniel stopped and stared, not sure what to do, or even if he should do anything. Perhaps this is what Jack needed-to just work it out until he collapsed or the guilt and anger and whatever else he was feeling dissipated, whichever came first.

As Daniel watched, it was becoming evident that collapse would come first. Each punch Jack threw was as strong or stronger than the previous one. He wasn't slowing. His BDUs were now wetter than Daniel's T-shirt and pants. He couldn't keep this up for long. Jack would keel over well before the enormous storm within petered out.

As quietly as he could in squeaky boots, Daniel approached Jack and came to stand on the other side of the bag. He waited in hopes Jack would notice him and stop.

Jack didn't stop.

Daniel, back to hugging himself, sighed and said, "Jack?"

O'Neill threw some more punches, then stopped. He held the bag still with his swollen hands. "I'm busy here, Daniel. Not in the mood to talk." He stared at the bag, unable to look Daniel in the face.

"Maybe I am."

"Tell that to someone who cares." Jack resumed working the bag. Not only could he still see the boy, who was too frozen with fear to hit the ground when he and Teal'c opened fire, he could smell burnt flesh and blood.

Daniel was not be deterred. He knew better than anyone else just how vulnerable Jack was now. His friend could easily slide into a deep depression. True, Jack had shown them his strength when he'd had the team out on the mountain recently for s'mores, but that was different. That was after seeing and touching a Charlie that wasn't Charlie, and was something that seemed to have a healing effect. This was so tragically different.

"You care, Jack. I know you do."

Jack slammed a forearm into the bag. Letting his sore arms drop to his sides, he glared at Daniel.

Daniel's breath seemed to wedge itself in his throat. The look from Jack was so incendiary that Daniel feared it would make the both of them spontaneously burst into flames.

"That's where you're wrong, Daniel." Jack said the words so softly that Daniel had to strain to hear them.

"I'm not wrong, but I was earlier today. I thought you didn't care. I thought you had actually killed everyone in that village. I'm ashamed I ever thought you'd do such a thing." He paused to draw on the courage he needed to speak about that cursed elephant in the room. "You cared enough about a boy you didn't know to save him from experiencing a gruesome death."

"Dammit, Daniel, I didn't _save_ him! I _killed_ him! And since when did getting the back of your head blown away become _not_ gruesome?" Jack couldn't see his action as a save. All he'd done was trade one death for another for a _child_. A favor maybe, he was still trying to convince himself, but not a save. _**So**_ _not a save_, he thought. "Didn't save him," he whispered coarsely. _Just like that poem – nothing gold can stay_.

Daniel dropped his chin to his chest, then raised his head enough to look at Jack over his glasses. "That's where _you're_ wrong, Jack. And I can't imagine how much that save is killing _you_." He sighed; he'd get nowhere with Jack right now. "Be seeing you around, Colonel O'Neill."

Jack stood statue-still, his face hard as stone, until he heard the door close quietly behind Daniel. Had Daniel just now seen his killing Kin for the unforgivable, despicable act it was and then told him he was off SG-1 by paraphrasing what he said when he left Daniel on Abydos?

Snorting, not wanting to think any more, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and went back to hammering away at the bag, oblivious to the pain and dejection in his friend's slumping body and shuffling walk.

IIII

O'Neill could barely move by the time he left the gym. Carter had found him and had relayed Hammond's orders. He owed the man an apology for his behavior. He should've been able to control himself long enough to follow proper procedure. Instead, he had let his hot Irish temper and self-loathing guilt override his discipline.

In the infirmary, Doctor Fraiser, who had stayed past her shift until she could examine O'Neill, scolded him for what he had done to his hands and for not seeing to the needs of his stressed-out and hurting team first. She feared she had overstepped her bounds, but felt that the situation called for a bit of tough love. Putting others first was one thing she hoped would keep him from falling deeper into a pit of despair.

He had the decency to look chastised, though he said nothing.

Fraiser checked him over closely and could find nothing else wrong except for some fairly significant dehydration. She ordered him to lie down, then left to give a nurse orders to administer a couple liters of fluid and apply ice packs to the colonel's hands. On her return to his bedside, she found the colonel fast asleep.

He gave no indication that he felt the pierce of the needle or the chill of the ice.

IIII

Somewhat replenished by the two-hour nap in the infirmary, the much needed intravenous and oral fluids, and a long, hot shower, Jack O'Neill appeared at General Hammond's door. "Sir, Colonel O'Neill reporting."

George looked up from the report he was reading. "Come in, Colonel. Take a seat."

Jack walked slowly into the room and stopped at parade rest in front of the desk. "Sir, if you don't mind, I think I'll stand. Pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get up for, oh, a few days."

The general nodded his consent, tapping his fingers together. Jack's entire demeanor was pitch-perfect neutral. "Colonel?"

"First thing, General, I apologize for my behavior on returning from Nihon. I lied and disrespected you, sir, though that was not my intention. It is certainly not an excuse. I know the disciplinary action you take will be . . . appropriate." Jack paused to catch his breath. "Second, I also let my team down, sir, and finally, I took an innocent life. I'll, uh, take care of the former, but the latter . . . Well, General, I respectfully request you wait to prefer charges until the morning so I can see to my team."

Hammond couldn't believe what he was hearing. How had Jack let down his team? How could he interpret his act of mercy as murder? He cleared his throat several times to buy time for forming his response.

"Colonel, considering the circumstances, your failure to follow protocol was understandable. Hell, Jack, if I'd been in your shoes, I'd've . . . well, I don't know what I'd've done but it wouldn't have been pretty. You did what you needed to do at that moment. It may have not been military discipline, but it sure as hell was discipline. A lot more than anyone else would have exercised under the same circumstances. You _were_ pissed, so you didn't lie. As for the disrespect, that's your interpretation, not mine." He paused, in part to regroup his thoughts, in part to gauge O'Neill's reaction. Not surprising, nothing had changed there.

"Fraiser told me what she said about you not tending to your team. She had her reasons, but I disagree. If you had stayed in the embarkation room, we both know you probably would have made things worse for all of you. Now that you've been able to . . . achieve _some_ perspective on today's events, you're in a better position to work with them productively." Again he paused, this time as a way of telling Jack he expected something from him.

"Not to worry, sir. I already have a plan."

"I knew you would, Colonel." Hammond sighed and leaned closer to O'Neill. "As for the death of the boy." Jack's mouth twitched ever so slightly. If Hammond had blinked, he would've missed it. "From what I hear, the boy's death was imminent. You, a complete stranger, showed him mercy that his own people would not. And I know you've hastened the inevitable in the past for a member of your team. We both have. When all is said and done, this was the same thing. It just . . . hit a little too close to home today."

Hammond watched as Jack's facial expression transformed from careful detachment to haunted sadness and back again in only two heartbeats. He hated doing this to Jack, dredging up horrible things he'd done for their country and Charlie's death, but he couldn't afford to let the leader of the flagship team wallow in self-hatred and -recrimination.

Jack ahem'd a couple of times to settle the quavering in his throat. "Yes, sir. Thank you, General. I appreciate your . . . generosity."

"Go home, Jack. Get some rest. I'll see you at 0900."

"Sir, one more thing. Permission to take Teal'c off base overnight. I'm, uh, planning a late supper for the team. I know this is short notice . . . " He let the sentence trail off.

"Permission granted, Colonel. Just be careful driving. Last thing we need is a hurt alien showing up in the hospital with injuries already healing."

IIII

Daniel had given up trying to translate some of the notes he had from Ernest's planet. Delving into this "meaning-of-life stuff" would have to wait. Besides, he was distracted by the smell of burning flesh that lurked in his awareness.

For what seemed like hours, he held his arms tightly around himself and rocked back and forth in his office chair, thinking nothing and everything. Until his worry about Jack - that he would do something stupid, like eat a bullet - separated itself from everything else pinging around in his head.

Now the worry was consuming him. Daniel had lost his parents and now that Jack was so much a part of his life, losing him would be almost as devastating. What had Jack said when Teal'c was trapped in the labyrinth on Cimmeria?

"You're part of this family now."

_Damn you, Jack, you __**know**__ family's supposed to be there for each other. Let me, or Sam or Teal'c, in!_

Daniel stopped rocking when he heard the two raps on his door. "Come in," he said after a deep breath.

"Hey, Daniel," Jack said quietly as he avoided eye contact.

"Jack."

"About earlier. In the gym. I . . ." Jack paused, caught Daniel's eyes to which he flashed shame, then promptly stared at the floor.

Daniel knew this was all the apology Jack could manage at the moment. He was encouraged that Jack had already progressed to that point where he could apologize. "It's okay, Jack. You were . . ." Daniel found himself at a loss for a word that would tactfully describe what Jack must've been feeling. He doubted such a word existed.

"Yeah, I was." Jack huffed a sad laugh through his nose. "You, uh, wanna come over to my place tonight? I got somethin' I wanna show you. Carter and Teal'c, too. Don't eat anything before coming, though. Hope you're hungry for Italian."

Daniel smiled weakly. "Sure, sounds good. But on one condition."

Jack's eyebrows shut up with suspicion. "And that would beeee?"

"Can I stay over? I really don't want to be alone tonight in my new place."

"Sure. Teal'c's staying. You can duke it out over who gets the guest room. 1900 hours?"

Daniel nodded. "See you then." As Jack half-smiled at him and closed the door, Daniel's mood lifted noticeably. He even found himself hoping that there'd be s'mores for dessert.

IIII

Sam sat in front of her computer screen and stared blankly at the unapproved screen saver of racing motorcyles. She'd been trying to work on her mission report but couldn't concentrate. She couldn't get the image of an exploding Kin out of her head. Or of a burning Daniel. Or of a gleefully murderous Jack O'Neill. None of which were reality.

A sharp knock on her closed door snapped her out of her daze. For the first time, she realized she'd unaware of anything but those disturbing images - and the stench of burnt bodily tissues - for at least 30 minutes. "It's open," she said loudly. She moved the mouse to make the illegal screen saver disappear.

"Hi, Carter."

She smiled close-lipped at her commanding officer, who was looking better than he was the last time she had seen him. "Colonel. What can I do for you?"

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at everything but her. "I was hoping you, uh, would care to join me, Teal'c, and Daniel for dinner at my place. Tonight. Italian. I have something I want you to see."

He reminded her of when Freddy Watkins asked her to the junior prom. Except there was a dolefulness in the colonel's invite instead of the cautious hopefulness in Freddy's. "Sure, sir. What time?"

A grin quickly came and went. "1900. Oh, Daniel and Teal'c are staying overnight. You're, uh, welcome to as well. If you're, you know, comfortable doing that _here_. At my place. On Earth. Not that I have a vacation home on Chulak."

Sam quietly giggled at his growing embarrassment. "Thanks. I'll . . . think about it. Can I bring anything?"

"No, thanks, Carter. Got it covered. Later." O'Neill nodded and unknowingly left Carter with a new and real image of him in her mind's eye.

Which got her thinking in a new direction. How could she have misjudged the colonel so terribly? Thought he was another black ops lunatic with a killer complex like her ex Jonas Hanson? Or maybe she hadn't misjudged him at all. Maybe she had projected onto him what _she_ wanted to do, would have done, if she'd been in command. If that were the case, she wasn't liking herself very much at the moment.

She recalled what the colonel had told her while he helped her with her pack before her first trip through the stargate. "Combat on the ground is _way_ different than combat in the air, Captain."

_You said a mouthful, Jack._

IIII

Jack didn't understand it, but he had accepted within a few days of Teal'c joining the fight that he and the Jaffa pretty much didn't have to talk to communicate about a lot of things. At this moment he was also deeply grateful, because he feared what would happen if he actually tried to talk. How the anger with and disappointment in himself would be revealed to the people who needed to trust his judgment, how the admission that he had failed to keep an innocent boy alive would further erode that trust.

Teal'c understood about no or grossly limited choices, in a way that probably neither Daniel nor Carter ever would. At least he hoped Carter would never be forced to understand it the same way they did - however unlikely that seemed in this war.

Jack was also grateful that Teal'c had so readily agreed to join him and the rest of the team tonight. He needed not only Teal'c's lack of blame to reassure him that he had chosen the lesser of the two evils presented to him, but his silent steadiness to ground him.

He picked up the phone and punched in Teal'c's extension. It was answered before the second ring.

"This is Teal'c. You may speak now."

Jack chortled at his friend's phone etiquette. He was nothing if not direct. "Ready to go?"

"Indeed."

"Meet you at the elevator."

IIII

The last time Teal'c had been "topside," as the people of the SGC called the world outside the mountain, was to assist Daniel Jackson with moving into his new dwelling, shortly after their return from Cimmeria. This particluar excursion he believed had several purposes, the most important one being that of finding solace in the team's company after a particularly trying mission.

They had not spoken until O'Neill had stopped at a restaurant he called Fat Rico's and asked him to help. That quickly accomplished, despite Rico's efforts to engage in conversation with O'Neill, they secured the significant amount of food on the truck bed.

O'Neill resumed driving, the silence in the cab of the truck comfortable and safe. It would have continued had Teal'c not been struck with the urge to make a personal observation.

"I would not have thought to kill the boy before the flames could take him, O'Neill."

Jack ground his teeth, strangely disappointed in Teal'c's self-assessment. Or maybe the honorable First Prime was trying to help his friend assuage his guilt. "You would have in another second or two, Teal'c. Just like you shot above their heads without me having to tell you."

"To have killed them would serve no purpose, though one could argue their barbarity toward their own would justify their annihilation. However, I did not think to kill the boy Kin. I believed his death was soon enough in coming."

O'Neill could have taken that as an indictment of his action, but he picked up on the subtle regret in Teal'c's tone and the less-than-perfect posture – quite unusual for Teal'c. He took a deep breath, blew it out, then said, "I know you would've taken the shot, Teal'c, because I know the kind of man you are. The man who saved me and a lot of others on Chulak. Given the chance, you do the right thing." He steered the truck onto his street.

Teal'c stared out the windshield while he processed O'Neill's statement. Though he still had doubts about the veracity of those words, it was clear O'Neill did not share those doubts, even if the Tau'ri had them about himself.

Unconsciously straightening in his seat, he turned to face O'Neill who was putting the vehicle in park. When he had O'Neill's attention, he bowed his head slowly to acknowledge his friend's confidence in him and his constant frown eased. "As do you," he stated.

The warriors looked at each other, saying much without words, for several moments. Then Jack squeezed Teal'c's forearm. "Thanks."

Only because of his superior hearing did Teal'c catch the trace quaver in O'Neill's voice.

IIII

No one questioned why Jack had chosen such highly aromatic food to eat – garlic bread, caesar salad, clam sauce, spicy marinara sauce, and freshly fried pancetta for crumbling on anything they wanted, with tiramisu and coffee for dessert. They were simply glad and appreciative he did. Clearing their olfactory memory of the last lingering traces of the burned boy served to lessen the pain they all felt.

They remained at the kitchen table, where the conversation had been flowing freely in many directions, for dessert. Daniel poured his third cup of coffee and shook his head in amazement as Teal'c tucked into his fourth slice of tiramisu. "So, Jack, what is it you want to show us?"

O'Neill checked his watch. It was nearly time. He looked at Carter, then Daniel, and finally Teal'c; all of them looked at him expectantly. "Can't see it from here, campers. Have to go topside."

"But we are in your home, O'Neill. We are not within the mountain."

"The colonel means the roof, Teal'c."

"Is this advisable? I have seen the roof of this home. Being on it does not seem to be a wise choice."

"It's okay, Teal'c. I go up there all the time. Part of it is flat."

Teal'c raised an skeptical eyebrow. "I will see this flat roof." He forked one more bite of the dessert into his mouth and stood.

"It's not the _roof_ I want you to see, big guy. It's . . . something else."

"Let's go, Jack! Whatever it is, you have my curiosity piqued."

"Doesn't take much for _that_ to happen, Daniel."

"I'm with Daniel, sir."

Jack sighed with a dramatic flair. "Oh, all right. Follow me."

A few minutes later, the four friends were on the observation deck. Carter headed straight for the telescope.

"Very nice 'scope, sir. What's the power on this model?"

"Carter, can we have that conversation later?" Despite his improving mood, Jack couldn't keep his irritation with her science/mechanics side hidden. Daniel glared at him; Teal'c deepened his frown.

Sam, looking sheepish, took a step away from the telescope. "Sorry, sir. It's really a great piece of equipment. I didn't know you were an astronomy buff."

"No, Carter, I'm sorry. I'm just a little, uh, on edge."

"As I am, O'Neill," Teal'c said as he peered over the perimeter of the deck.

Jack snickered at the fact that Teal'c didn't care much for heights. "Okay, kids, I bought us a star this afternoon. Well, not _really_ bought a star, just the naming rights. I thought we could settle on a name together."

Daniel's face lit up, as did Sam's. "That's, that's, that's so fantastic," Daniel said. "I didn't know you could do that."

"It's been around for about 20 years, Daniel. Gimme me a minute and I'll have it in my sights." Having memorized the star's coordinates, Jack had it centered in the 'scope's field in no time. Especially since it was in the same quadrant of the binary star he had named after Charlie and him soon after his return from the first Abydos mission. He then gave them basic instructions on how to use the 'scope. "Carter, you're up."

She smiled widely once she knew she had the right one in sight. "It's yellow! Really pale, but I can tell it's yellow." She began to feel reassured that SG-1 was getting back into its groove. She filed away what he had done for them in her mental command primer. Payback, she knew, was her ever-growing loyalty now and her hopefully successful command of her own in the future.

Hiding his relief that someone picked up on the star's color, Jack said, "Good eye, Carter. Daniel, you go next."

"It's beautiful, Jack," Daniel said as he watched the distant star twinkle. It warmed him that Jack, who was so hardened by battle and tragedies that just seemed to keep mounting, had the capacity to do something this sweet. "Thanks."

Jack simply cleared his throat and nodded. "Teal'c, it's your turn."

The Jaffa carefully made his way to the telescope. The rest of the team noticed this and shared their amusement while Teal'c viewed the star.

"It is a star befitting SG-1, O'Neill."

Jack rubbed his hands together several times. "Any suggestions?"

They all retreated into their minds to search for an appropriate name. After a few seconds, Daniel said serenely, "Kin. It means 'golden.'"

Carter's eyes instantly welled with tears. "That's perfect, Daniel." _The perfect name for the perfect gift_, she thought.

"Indeed." Teal'c looked at O'Neill and with a slight arch of an eyebrow told him he was aware and approved of what he'd done to assist the team in coping and growing.

Jack knew that Daniel wouldn't fail to make the connection. That he would come up with the right name and that the rest of them would agree to it.

"Works for me, kids. Now that that's done, I'm ready to hit the hay," Jack said. "Been a long day. I think I'll stay up here tonight, so work it out who sleeps where in the house."

"What is hay and why would one desire to strike it?"

"It's an expression, Teal'c, that means you're tired and are going to bed to sleep."

"Thank you, DanielJackson. I appreciate your willingness to continue to interpret the language of O'Neill for me. You as well, CaptainCarter."

Sam giggled at the exchange and at Jack's phony perturbed look. "Sir, if you don't mind, I think I'll stay up here, too."

"Great idea, Sam! Count me in."

"I concur – if I may have a position close to the center of this platform."

"It's gonna be pretty crowded."

"That's okay, Jack. We'll manage."

Jack had known they would stay with him, keep him alive, sane. It felt right, to sleep together under familiar stars, one of which was newly named to remember a boy who he had failed to save but who had brought his team closer and made them all stronger. He would live with what he'd done; he'd have to, because he was in no hurry to die. And maybe eventually one night many years from now when he would gaze at the golden star, Jack might try resuscitating that piece of himself he had killed off when he killed Kin.

IIII

As he debriefed SG-1 the next morning, General Hammond was gratified to see they were weathering the incident on Nihon quite well. Whatever Jack had done had worked; even he seemed at peace – at least on the outside.

"I expect your written reports on my desk by the end of the day. The mission to P3X-866 is a go and SG-1 will 'gate out in five days. In the meantime, catch up on your other work. That includes you, Colonel," Hammond said when he caught O'Neill's face contort into an exaggerated sneer. "Dismissed, people."

IIII

_Epilogue: Eight years later_ (Season 9, _Origin Part 3_)

As the fiery liquid inexorably tracked through the maze toward Daniel Jackson and Vala Mal Doran, Daniel thought, not for the first and hopefully not the last time, how much he wished Jack O'Neill was still stepping through the 'gate with him. Wished that Jack was here for him and Vala now, like he had been there for Kin.

~~ end ~~


	10. J is for Jaffa

**J is for Jaffa**

Will Teal'c no longer be the only Jaffa on SG-1?

JJJJ

"_NO!_" Jack O'Neill screams the word so loudly and forcefully that his vocal cords seize in pain. He struggles to free himself from the four Jaffa holding him hostage by his extremities, but to no avail.

He commands his eyes to leave Sam Carter's pleading, terrified face and the Jaffa ripping her shirt open as she lay on a cold, stone table in some gaudily decorated room on Sokar's ship. Thanks to some trick of the hand device, she is motionless, unable to fight back.

His eyes come to rest on the imperious face of Apophis. The Goa'uld reminds him of an evil, twisted version of the Phantom of the Opera.

"You don't want to do this." O'Neill frosts his words with dark threat, but they merely sound like newborn-kitten wheezes through his tortured airway.

"Silence him!" Apophis ordered another Jaffa.

Wasting no time carrying out his God's bidding, the Jaffa pinches the human's nose closed.

O'Neill holds his breath. He knows it's only a matter of time before he must take in the needed air, but he has no intentions of doing so until the last possible moment. Too soon, his mouth opens involuntarily and immediately he feels a large, filthy rag being shoved into the gap. The rancid, sooty taste rapidly triggers the need to puke.

Further enraged, O'Neill fights harder against his Jaffa restraints. He looks to Teal'c, who is on the other side of Carter's prone body. Five of Apophis's automatons are still holding him, despite the pain and weakness he can tell Teal'c is experiencing. He struggles to remember how long it's been since Apophis removed Junior from his friend's pouch.

Teal'c's non-verbal message reaches him loud and clear: There is little to no possibility that he will break free, and there is regret, sorrow, and shame that he has let O'Neill and the rest of the team down.

O'Neill telegraphs "It's not your fault" to his suffering teammate. And it isn't Teal'c's fault. It is his, as leader of the team. In the final analysis, the buck always stops with him.

And this, their current life as SG-1, is looking pretty damn final. Things are about to change substantively for them all.

He looks back at Carter. She has managed to turn her head slightly toward him. The terror is still there, along with blatant strength and a growing stoicism. Her courage awes him. She is a true warrior. He does his best to show his pride in and respect of her.

Out of the corner of his eye, O'Neill sees Apophis, a malicious grin marring his face, lower that familiar, large, glowing jewel. Jack controls with gargantuan effort every urge he has to center his vision on that terrible thing and to fight his captors even harder. Carter needs him, now that the inevitable is happening.

O'Neill fights the new urge to cry as the center of the jewel touched Carter's navel. She squeezes her eyes tightly against the agony he knew once upon a time and knows he will feel again all too soon.

An unexpected surge of fight hormones saturates O'Neill's body. He renews his attempts to break free, but they are met with sharp jabs to his kidneys and a vicious kick to his right knee. He tears from the pain, yet doesn't back off.

Rapidly, O'Neill blinks away the mist clouding his vision in time to see Apophis holding a baby snake above Carter's wounded belly. Everything about Jack but his racing heart stills completely. Then Apophis focuses his gaze on O'Neill.

O'Neill glowers at him with unadulterated hatred.

The Goa'uld laughs and places the larval Goa'uld in Carter's newly formed pouch.

When he hears the sucking sound of the larva entering his friend, O'Neill manages to prevent his stomach from spewing its contents. His heart aches from the ripping it seems to be doing in his chest. He shouts expletive-laced insults and promises of a slow, agonizing death for Apophis that don't get past the gag.

Then, abruptly, Jack is free. Apophis's henchmen have released him and are standing off to the side. He yanks the gag from his mouth as he strides toward Apophis, intent on killing the snake-head with his bare hands. He is within a few feet when the false god hits him with a pressure wave from the hand device.

In the moment it takes for O'Neill to smash against the wall that will end his flight, he hears Teal'c call out his name. He thinks he should've known that Apophis would pull some kind of crap like this. Worst of all, he witnesses the devastation in Carter's glistening eyes.

JJJJ

O'Neill's return to consciousness comes with a mammoth headache, accompanied by that vile gag stuffed in his mouth and four Jaffa attached to his arms and legs. He notices they aren't holding him very tightly. They don't need to; he is still recovering from his up-close-and-personal meeting with a wall so hard that it could survive Ground Zero. His entire body should be aching but the adrenaline remains at high levels.

And there is Daniel stretched out on the same table Carter had been on. Sam is nowhere to be seen. Daniel's chest and abdomen are already bare and two Jaffa have their staff weapons trained on him. Jack surmises that Apophis hasn't immobilized his friend yet.

"Jack? You can put Plan B in motion any time. Uh, now would be good," he says calmly.

O'Neill's heart rips further. Daniel, always brave, is more so now than ever before. With a nod and eyes that see nothing but Daniel's petrified yet hopeful face, Jack sends him support, strength, and admiration.

Then the unspeakable horror that happened to Sam repeats itself, a recurring nightmare that is real.

Apophis uses the ribbon device to paralyze Daniel. O'Neill and Teal'c labor fruitlessly to break free. Daniel, unable to move his head, instead moves his eyes so full of spirit and fear and forgiveness (Daniel knows him so well; knows that Jack blames himself for this) to center on Jack, who does the only thing he can do: struggle harder.

Apophis, his laugh colored with psychosis, places the jewel from hell on Daniel's belly. A muffled shriek, unable to fully be realized, burbles in Daniel's throat as the pain rocks his body. Then an infant Goa'uld snakes its way into Daniel's larval pouch.

And Daniel Jackson is changed forever as well.

The sight of Daniel becoming a Jaffa snatches Jack's breath away. His headache grows worse, and the Jaffa punch his kidneys and boot his knee over and over again as if it were a soccer ball in heated tournament play.

O'Neill can't make sense of Apophis turning them into Jaffa – a huge tactical error. SG-1 will be stronger and still in control of themselves and presumably would escape from Apophis, free to go Goa'uld hunting with a greater vengeance than before; however, eventually each one would die rather than become hosts to the matured Goa'uld. If their heads had been snaked instead, they would be lost, unwillingly pledged to that scuzzy false god, until somehow the Tok'ra could de-snake them. Or not.

Unless Apophis plans to hold one of them hostage while the other three carry out his orders. That would make sense; that's what O'Neill would do if he were a loony, megalomaniacal demon of darkness with an affinity for gold lamé and absurd Mickey Mouse-ish hats.

To make matters worse, Jack can tell Teal'c, whose face is streaked with tears, is dying a little faster now. If Apophis doesn't replace Junior, Jack will give Teal'c his snakelet, because Jack doesn't deserve to live, having failed his team so terribly on this mission. The one thing he contributed to the team - his protection - was less than useless this time. His last hope of redemption is to save Teal'c, if that slime ball snake-head turns him into a nursery. _Just don't let it be one in the head_.

Apophis doesn't disappoint. The Goa'uld fastens the pouch-making jewel around his waist and, with a malevolent glint in his snaky eyes, approaches O'Neill.

Jack quiets; he has chosen to face his fate head on. The fight will be the defiance tensing his perspiring body and the assurance of death in his eyes. His loathing of Apophis climbs higher still because the Goa'uld denied both Carter and Daniel the chance to show they would have met this invasion with equal strength and control.

The two Jaffa restraining his legs release their hold and together tear his shirt open. One of them removes the rag.

O'Neill spits out what little tainted moisture there is in his mouth. "I've always thought you were too stupid to live," he says in a voice cracking with strain and emotion, "but this takes the cake." He clears his throat. His voice improves marginally. "Now you'll have _four_ Jaffa who will kick your wormy ass to Netu."

Apophis's body tenses and his eyes glow in anger. Moments later, the jewel glows as well. He pulls Jack O'Neill into an embrace.

O'Neill's face twists into an expression of revulsion because of the sickly sweet odor of the Goa'uld and the physical intimacy forced on him.

Despite his best efforts, Jack screams at the excruciating pain of the pouch forming. Burning anguish ripples out through him from his gut. He doesn't remember it being this bad when Hathor jeweled him. This time, it seems to last for hours. Amplifying his failure and misery is the sight of an unmoving Daniel with tears streaming from his eyes.

Once the pouch is finished, Apophis lets go of O'Neill, who is panting from the pain that is fading far too slowly. Jack is growing increasingly lightheaded and is resentfully grateful for the Jaffa holding him upright. He works on slowing his breathing.

Apophis reaches into the clear, fluid-filled urn for the remaining larva. To mark his victory over SG-1, he holds the squirming larva close to O'Neill's face for a few long moments, taunting him, before allowing it to enter its live incubator.

The larva slithers in, then stops abruptly. This gives Jack hope that the snakelet will reject him and leave. Suddenly it begins to twist and turn and flip, exploring its new home. The sharp, acid taste of bile fills his mouth, but inexplicably it does not go farther.

"You will not dare to defy your god, _Jaffa_. SG-1 belongs to me and will do as I command."

O'Neill grimaces at both Apophis's prediction and the boundary testing his new baby snake is doing. "My team doesn't drink that flavor of Kool-Aid," he snarls.

Apophis's eyes glow so brightly that O'Neill swears he can feel heat. The Goa'uld backhands Jack, cutting his face in three places with the hand device. "Kneel before _your_ god, Jaffa!"

"Only in your nightmares, Scarface," O'Neill grinds out as he is pushed painfully to his knees despite resisting; he is too new a Jaffa to match his opponents' strength. "Hell, I'll kill you all by my lonesome, you son of a bitch," he growls through clenched teeth. The depth and breadth of his hatred for the sadistic bastard frighten him, but for only a heartbeat. Neither does it bother him as he imagines all the heinous ways he will torture and kill the snake-head the instant he gets the opportunity.

Apophis throws his head back and laughs hard, the resonant tone of the Goa'uld in control making it sound eerie and disturbing. It settles caustically in the pit of O'Neill's stomach. Despite that, he lunges upward for the suddenly exposed throat.

JJJJ

Daniel Jackson started awake to find himself curled up on the floor next to Jack. The air was stifling and reeked of sweaty, filthy bodies. The taste in his mouth was foreign and revolting, and his jaw hurt. It took several careful head shakes before he realized they were in the cargo hold of a _teltak_ bound for Vorash after too long a stay in Goa'uld Hell. At the same time he knew what woke him: Jack had shouted, "You son of a bitch!"

The next thing Daniel noticed was the heat pouring from Jack's rigid body. His dirty clothes were dripping wet. Daniel imagined he saw steam rising from his friend.

Lantesh roused Martouf, who had been sleeping as well. He lay perpendicular to O'Neill with their feet almost touching. _~Colonel O'Neill is ill,~_ the Tok'ra informed his host. _~I believe there is something more than an illness affecting him.~_

The stirring Tok'ra grabbed Daniel's attention. "Martouf, Jack is really sick. And I'm pretty sure that's not all that's going on."

Martouf shed the last of his sleep. "Lantesh agrees with you, Doctor Jackson. Perhaps we should awaken him." He slid around on the floor until he was stretched out on O'Neill's side opposite the archeologist. Before he could reach out for O'Neill's shoulder, Jackson said, "No, don't touch him. It's dangerous to do that when he's, he's, he's . . . like this."

Daniel took a deep breath and exhaled through pursed lips. "Jack, wake up." He desperately wanted to touch O'Neill as well, to shake him awake, but let his will to live, preferably injury-free, take charge. "Jack," he said louder and with authority when it was apparent the first urging didn't work. In his peripheral vision, he saw the Carters slowly awakening.

It took three more times, until Daniel was shouting, before O'Neill woke abruptly. Daniel was so stunned by the unbridled loathing on his friend's face that he failed to back away enough to avoid a stranglehold on his throat.

By the time Martouf could reach over and pry O'Neill's fingers from Daniel's neck, Daniel's eyes were already bulging and his consciousness dimming. Sam crawled on her hands and knees to Daniel while she shouted, "Colonel! JACK!"

The instant his hand was free of Daniel's neck, O'Neill stared wild-eyed at his friend. "Daniel?" he whispered with a mix of confusion and contrition.

Jackson, now holding his own throat, would have toppled to the floor had Carter not been there to catch him. "It's okay, Daniel. I got you." She held him close and upright to facilitate his breathing and kept herself between him and the colonel as best she could. Once they were situated, Carter flashed an angry look at her commanding officer.

O'Neill caught it, but he didn't care what Carter thought of him at the moment. As far as he was concerned, they had much more important things to attend to. "What are we doing here? Where's Apophis?"

Carter's anger dissipated quickly as she noted something wasn't right with the colonel. She knitted her brow. "He's dead, Colonel."

"I . . . _killed_ him?"

"No, sir. Apophis died in the explosion on Netu. Or maybe the mother ship. And our mission is completed."

O'Neill's nostrils flared. "No, he didn't die! He's alive! He made us Jaffa, for cryin' out loud, Carter! And he's got Teal'c as his bargaining chip!"

"Colonel? Teal'c is -"

_Dead!_ Jack thought, feeling as if his own soul had been slain, as he rolled to his side before Carter could finish. He began clawing at her shirt, trying to pull it out of her trousers. Carter was too shocked to fight him off. Daniel, despite his trouble breathing, tried to help Sam after a moment, but Jack knocked his hand away. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you, Carter? Can't you _feel_ the damn thing? You're a freakin' _Jaffa_!"

It had taken the still-recovering Selmak and his host Jacob Carter longer than they hoped to get to the agitated colonel. Selmak, in control of the body, grabbed O'Neill's wrists. "Martouf, get Teal'c. _Now_."

O'Neill screeched out a "No!" and almost wrested from Selmak's grip. "Have to get you back to Apophis or he'll let Teal'c die!"

Selmak looked closely into O'Neill's eyes. The pupils were fully dilated and they rippled slowly, as if they had a thick, viscous consistency. "Hurry!"

Martouf nodded. He was at the control room door in moments and opened it. "Teal'c! Something is wrong with the colonel. Bring the zat-"

Teal'c was past Martouf before he could say the weapon's full name and he had it primed for use. He evaluated the scene playing out before him: Selmak/Jacob trying to contain a battling O'Neill, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson edging away from the two brawling people. He raised the zat'nik'atel and aimed it at his brother-in-arms. "Ready."

With a quick nod, Selmak pushed Jack away in the half-second before he released his wrists, isolating the colonel from the rest of them.

In his peripheral vision, O'Neill saw Teal'c – a _healthy_ Teal'c who was pointing a zat at him. "Teal-" he said with pure joy and more than a little curiosity before he was cut off by blue strands of painful energy enveloping him.

Everyone but Daniel held their breaths as O'Neill twitched and finally quieted into unconsciousness. For several long, tense moments, the only sound in the cargo room was Daniel's turbulent breathing. There was a near simultaneous exhalation as they became convinced the colonel was out.

Teal'c lowered the zat. "Selmak, please explain why it was necessary for this action against O'Neill."

Selmak closed his eyes and inclined his head once. Jacob opened his eyes. "Selmak is pretty tired, and I'll fill you in, but there's something else first." Jacob sat between his daughter and Jack. "I think some Blood of Sokar may have entered Jack's bloodstream. Martouf, check Jack's wound."

"Dad . . ." "General Carter …" Sam and Teal'c spoke simultaneously

"Just hang on, you two."

Martouf's capable hands removed the dressing, now sodden with blood and sweat, that he had placed on O'Neill's staff burn not long ago. He moved in closer to examine it. Soon after, he sat up and sighed. He looked to Sam and Daniel. "I bear full responsibility for this happening to Colonel O'Neill. I did not inspect the wound closely, nor did I wash it. There appear to be some traces of the Blood of Sokar on his skin. I believe the wound is infected as well. It also looks as if someone mutilated it. Perhaps that hand or object had the drug on it. I am sorry."

"Martouf, you couldn't have known," Sam said in an attempt to assuage his guilt. He was as exhausted as everyone else. She probably would have overlooked it herself. Martouf graciously accepted her words, though his guilty feelings remained undiminished.

"I was afraid of that," a suddenly worried Jacob said. "Things are pretty dicey for Jack. This is very serious. There's nothing the Tok'ra can do for him. And Daniel isn't doing much better." They could all tell Daniel was tiring fast and turning ashen. "Teal'c, tell Aldwin to get us to the nearest safe Stargate as quickly as possible." Teal'c nodded and left to deliver the order. "Sam, is there a healing device at the SGC?"

"There should be. General Hammond has standing orders that there is one on base at all times. Can Aldwin contact Vorash and have someone call the SGC to ensure there's one available?" Another swift assessment of Daniel had her adding, "Please tell them to have it in the 'gate room." There was a brief silence when they rocked slightly because of the ship's increase in speed.

"That'll work. Daniel, hang in there. Aldwin or Lantesh will heal you in no time. Now, let's use any water we have left to irrigate Jack's burn. Maybe that'll cut down on how much drug he's getting."

Martouf gathered the meager amounts of water left and began the task of washing out the colonel's wound.

Jacob sighed, feeling the weariness coming back strong after the burst of adrenaline. "As soon as Selmak saw Colonel O'Neill's eyes, she knew what was going on. She's seen it once before about 50 years ago. When taken directly into the bloodstream, the hallucinations become more vivid, very intense, and prolonged. Side effects are nightmares, horrible headaches, nausea, high fever, sweating, generalized aches and pain, heart palpitations, and a few others." Jacob paused while he listened to Selmak. "The person this happened to . . ." Jacob's voice trailed off to nothing.

"Died," a wide-eyed and concerned Daniel whispered coarsely.

A pregnant silence hung like a shroud of fog in the cargo hold. Even Daniel's increasingly labored breaths made no sound.

JJJJ

Sam and Aldwin carried an unconscious Daniel between them. The instant they exited the wormhole, Sam shouted, "Need that device NOW!" They moved halfway down the ramp, where they met Doctor Fraiser. Carefully, Jackson's escorts laid him on the ramp.

"Here it is," Fraiser said as she slapped the healing device in Aldwin's proffered hand.

Sam knelt beside her friend's head. His skin was the color of the sky at high noon, with a hint of dusky gray beneath. His chest barely moved. "We're not too late," she whispered with little confidence to the Tok'ra as she stroked Daniel's damp hair.

Aldwin either didn't hear her or ignored her. He held the device over the center of Jackson's chest. As it began to glow, Teal'c, sporting a bloodied nose and a split lip, emerged through the event horizon, bear-hugging a fighting Jack O'Neill from behind. Instantly, the Security Forces contingent had all weapons trained on O'Neill. "Withhold all fire!" Teal'c commanded.

The hallucinating colonel saw Apophis sitting on his golden throne. "Call off your damn goon, you slimy, sneaky, saprostomous snake-head! We got Selmak, now put Junior back in Teal'c!" Suddenly, he relaxed. His body shrank just enough that he began to slowly slide out of the hold the enemy Jaffa had on him.

George Hammond gulped and shivered at the vitriolic outburst and the hate-filled stare his second-in-command aimed at him like a rocket ready to fire. Biting back a reprimand and the internal chill that spread throughout his body, Hammond said calmly, "Jack, you're back at the SGC. You and the rest of SG-1 are safe."

Teal'c finally noticed that O'Neill was slipping through his arms. Though he was proud of O'Neill's attempt to free himself, Teal'c couldn't risk losing control of his friend. He allowed O'Neill to slide a little farther, then applied a choke hold.

Even as his awareness grew muddy and his kicks at the legs of his captor weaker, O'Neill continued to rail at Apophis. "I'm not going to fall for that crap again, Apophis. So give Teal'c his symbiote back, you motherfu-" And O'Neill was out. Teal'c eased his friend to the ramp.

Jacob Carter stepped through the 'gate. "George." Still woozy and dehydrated, he adopted a wide stance to keep from falling. "Thanks for letting SG-1 come after us." Wobbling despite his best efforts, he plopped down on the ramp and sat cross-legged.

Hammond nodded to his long-time colleague and friend, who had turned a remarkable shade of lime green. "Don't worry, Jacob. We'll get to you shortly, but first we have to secure Colonel O'Neill."

With those words, the four SFs jogged up the ramp and placed the colonel in 4-point restraints. Dr. Warner was right with them. He took the opportunity to examine the unconscious officer. He gasped when he saw O'Neill's black, oscillating pupils. "Let's get him to the infirmary stat. And one of you help Doctor Pendergast with General Carter."

Teal'c refused to let anyone but him carry O'Neill to the waiting gurney, though the remaining three stayed with them. He stopped next to his other two teammates and the Tok'ra, who was just finishing with Daniel Jackson. The linguist's breathing and coloration were quickly returning to normal. Fraiser was placing an oxygen mask over Daniel's nose and mouth. "My deepest thanks to you, Aldwin, for saving the life of my friend. I am indebted to you, as is the rest of SG-1."

A weary Aldwin smiled in return. "You owe us nothing, Teal'c of Chulak. I only wish there was something we can do for Colonel O'Neill."

Teal'c arched an eyebrow. "His wound remains in need of healing. Perhaps that is something with which you can assist."

JJJJ

Sam spent the first 24 hours back on base mostly sleeping in a bed in the infirmary, beside her father. Between Aldwin's use of the healing device and and the SGC medical team's support such as intravenous fluids, high-calorie shakes, and multi-vitamins, Jacob and Selmak were back to their usual excellent state of health in two days.

Teal'c required no assistance, as his prim'ta healed his broken nose, injured lip, and battered shins quickly. He, too, chose to remain in the infirmary while he performed kel'no'reem in a quiet corner, so he could be close to his recovering teammates and Jacob Carter and readily available to assist with controlling O'Neill should he become violent again.

Daniel slept for most of the next 36 hours, awaking only to drink, nibble on some protein bars, and use the facilities. Between Teal'c and Sam, he learned in bits and pieces what had happened since he'd passed out on the _teltac_. Two days after his return to Earth, he was discharged but chose to stay, taking up temporary residence on one side of Jack's bed. Either Teal'c or several SFs were on the other side at all times.

Jack O'Neill's treatment and recovery took a different course. Aldwin was able to use the healing device to repair the worst of the deep tissue damage, but Doctor Fraiser had to finally put a stop to that method. For some unknown reason, O'Neill had become highly agitated, and she guessed that the sensations coming from the healing device were exacerbating his hallucinations. So there followed hemodialysis to remove the drug, ice packs and cooling blankets to bring down the fever, and restraints to keep him in bed and everyone else safe until the effects of the drug had completely dissipated. A quick diagnostic check by Aldwin wielding the healing device one last time revealed that Jack had no brain damage from the sleeper hold Teal'c had delivered on their return home.

JJJJ

O'Neill lost all track of time and reality. Nothing seemed right. He would surface for brief fragments of time when he was positive he was awake, but conflicting images, sounds, smells, and sensations confounded and frightened him and he escaped by concentrating on old memories: hockey games, graduation from the Air Force Academy, Charlie's birth.

His subconscious began to sort everything out, though it was so slowly that it seemed as if there was no end to this hell in sight, until he was mostly certain that he had mistaken Daniel for Apophis, nearly killing him with one hand, and that there was only one, very much alive Jaffa on SG-1. Finally, he drifted into restful unconsciousness.

JJJJ

"What do you have to report, Jenny?"

Languidly rising to wakefulness, Jack almost whooped for joy when he recognized Janet Fraiser's clinical tone untainted by Goa'uldy resonance. He pushed himself to the surface of consciousness.

"According to the EEG, he's been having normal sleep for about the last four consecutive hours, ma'am," replied the nurse currently monitoring him. "He's been stable, plus his temp is down, too."

Jack, almost awake, heard the doc's sigh of relief. He even caught the faint perfume of her shampoo. It didn't smell of blood or prim'ta ooze this time. And he could sense Teal'c nearby. He heard the familiar sounds and smelled the familiar odors of the infirmary. For the first time in what had to be ages, he permitted himself to think that maybe his tour in Hell was over.

"Looks like he's waking up," Fraiser said. After a pause, she continued, "Colonel? Wake up, sir. You're home."

Jack opened one eye and saw his friend and physician looking at him with hope. No flashy eyes this time. He opened his other eye and gave her a soft smile. Hovering beside her was Teal'c. In the Jaffa's eyes he read hope tempered with caution; in his muscular body, Jack saw a readiness for action. His smile widened, reassured that Teal'c was there to step in should he lose it again. "O great and powerful Oz, can I go to my _real_ home now?" he asked cheekily. As he tugged at the straps around his wrists, he continued, "And can these 'bracelets' come off?"

Fraiser treated them both to a huge smile. "Not quite yet, Colonel. I need to check out a few things first."

"I'll make you a deal. Don't shine that damn light in my eyes, and I'll let you – just you – take me home, handcuffs and all." He wiggled his eyebrows in a mock come-on. Turning to Teal'c, he said, "Sorry, big guy. Not this time."

Janet laughed. "It's tempting, sir, but . . ."

"Pizza and beer, too? My treat." An eye blink later, he yawned and settled back into a sleep not plagued by pouch-making jewels or an evil pretender to godhood.

Despite Fraiser's reassurances that O'Neill was no longer a threat, Hammond decided to keep the 24-hour guard in place. After all, Jack O'Neill had superlative skills in the art of deception, even under alien influence, and Hammond needed to protect the people on this base.

O'Neill was able to simply doze, when he was conscious enough to remember and think, and sleep for two more days, thanks to the tubes going in and out of his body. Eventually, Hammond approved the removal of the restraints and called off the guard.

JJJJ

The next time O'Neill woke fully, surprisingly refreshed and alert, it was to Daniel and Teal'c on either side of his bed. He heard Sam talking softly with Doc Fraiser just a few feet away.

"Hi, Jack. Welcome back." Daniel smiled broadly. "You know, it's not a good idea to relive the '70s again and please don't do that any time soon. At least not while I'm on the same planet."

Jack nodded. He regarded the faint bruising on Daniel's neck, recognizing that the patterns matched his thumb and fingers. Though there were still a few things he was sorting out, he knew he had come very close to killing his friend. Jack pointed and waved an index finger at his own neck. "About . . . that. I'm sorry, Daniel."

The left side of Daniel's mouth twitched. "It's okay, Jack. You weren't exactly thinking straight."

"Dammit, Daniel, I thought you were _Apophis_. And I almost killed you." He could remember feeling the airway collapse beneath his hand. He shuddered internally. "That's _so_ not 'okay.'"

"Jack, it was the Blood of Sokar that made you do that, not you."

_Fat lot of good drug resistance training did_, Jack thought angrily. "Yeah, well . . ."

Daniel sighed, resigned to the fact that no matter what he or anyone else said, Jack would never forgive himself for his actions. Quickly, he changed the subject, believing it the best way to pull Jack out of the deep end of the self-recrimination pool. "You thought General Hammond was Apophis, too. Do you remember what you said?"

O'Neill, rising to the bait, winced. "Oh, yeah. Hope he didn't bust me back all the way to airman basic."

"He did not, O'Neill. You remain a colonel. GeneralHammond is an understanding commander. Had he truly been Apophis, you would have been tortured and killed. Probably many times over." Teal'c said dispassionately.

"Gee, thanks, Teal'c. That's what I like about you – always able to see the silver lining."

"You are welcome, O'Neill."

"Colonel! Good to see you awake, sir," Sam Carter said as she came to stand at the foot of the bed, where Fraiser joined her.

"Back atcha, Major. The 'good to see you' part, that is. How's Jacob?"

"He is doing fine, Colonel," Janet said before Sam could respond, "thanks in part to Aldwin and my team. He's having lunch with the general as we speak."

"Mmm . . . lunch. Sounds good. Couple cheese and bean burritos would hit the spot. Or pizza. Chinese would be nice. Hell, how about all of 'em?"

Janet chuckled. "Sorry, sir, but I had something a bit lighter in mind for your first few meals."

"Aw, Doc, come _on_. Do you _always_ have to take the wind outta my sails?"

Janet gave him a wicked look. "Yes." Turning toward the rest of SG-1, she said, "Okay, folks, two more minutes then you're out of here. I have a detailed neuro examination to perform on the colonel." Reluctantly, all of SG-1 agreed.

"Jack, I'm curious."

"Isn't that your usual state of affairs, Daniel?"

Jackson sneered at O'Neill. "Teal'c told me you called Hammond 'saprostomous.' That had everyone running to the dictionary, Jack. Where did you learn that word anyway?"

Jack's neck reddened; once again, he'd been called out. Knowing weird words were part of being the Minnesota state spelling bee champ three years running. But they didn't need to know that. _So think, Jack_. "Uh . . . Word-a-Day email. I subscribed in self-defense so I could understand a little bit of what you and Carter say, what with your highfalutin' vocabulary. Teal'c's no slouch in the incomprehensible word department either, ya know."

"Thank you, O'Neill." Teal'c nodded regally, with a touch of smugness.

"Don't mention it, buddy. And I only meant that foul-breath thing about the Go'uld, not the Jaffa."

"Indeed."

"Sir, something you said during the hallucinations bothers me a little."

"What's that, Carter?"

Sam hesitated, then jumped in with both feet. "You were willing to turn my dad over to Apophis in return for Teal'c getting his symbiote back. Would you _really_ do that, sir?"

There was no hesitation on O'Neill's part. "Absolutely, Major." The shock on both Carter and Daniel's faces was immediate, but he wasn't surprised by this, and the agreement on Teal'c's countenance confirmed that his fellow soldier understood O'Neill's decision in the given, albeit unreal, situation.

"Sir?" Sam had a hard time not sounding disappointed or judgmental.

Jack remained silent in hopes that Carter would figure it out for herself. When she didn't, he looked at the Jaffa, giving him permission to explain.

"Turning Selmak over to Apophis would be an appropriate tactical decision in this circumstance, MajorCarter. O'Neill would have ensured that Selmak had one or more weapons hidden on his person. If Apophis had returned the symbiote to my pouch, all of SG-1 as Jaffa and Selmak as Tok'ra would have had an excellent chance to escape, if not kill the false god as well. Apophis would have believed that turning SG-1 into Jaffa would make the team compliant, not an enemy force with a plan to defeat him. Such was his arrogance."

Jack said, "Give the man a cigar."

Both Daniel and Sam grinned sheepishly. "Yes, sir," Sam replied, thankful she had two brilliant warriors to learn from. She wondered, though, if she'd ever be ready to make the kind of decision that required going beyond personal feelings.

"Okay, folks, scoot!" Janet ordered as she made shooing gestures at them.

"We'll be back later, Jack."

"Bring me some pie, wouldja, Daniel? And cake. And I wouldn't turn down a beer – or six."

JJJJ

Jack snatched a few moments of think time during Janet's exam. He couldn't get Teal'c's last words out of his head.

"Such was his arrogance."

_Was_.

His team believed Apophis had died in the explosions and fires of Netu. Publicly he would agree with them, but he knew otherwise. Didn't know how he knew, though. It was just that this knowledge was not a figment of his drugged imagination.

He knew without a doubt that Apophis was still alive. He felt it deep in his gut. Where his prim'ta pouch had been.

~end~

Thanks to Helen for the fantastic beta. Any and all mistakes or problems are mine.


	11. K is for

**K is for . . .**

The rest of the title is at the end of the story.

Time Frame: After _Singularity_ (tag for the Season 1 episode)

Connected to _D is for Death_ in this series, but not necessary to have read that to understand this story.

KKKK

Teal'c's perpetual frown deepened as he contemplated what he had just learned. "It does not seem sanitary to allow such an animal to live in one's abode. Another concern is the need for humans to have 'friends' of another species. Are humans incapable of having enough friends of their own kind?"

Daniel Jackson was thrilled that Jack O'Neill had left it to him to educate their other-worldly comrade about pets, while Jack played with Cassie's new dog. Teal'c always challenged his thinking and ability to communicate clearly with someone with a truly "alien" background. "Pets are a different kind of friend, Teal'c. They love their owners unconditionally" – he nodded toward Jack, who was flat on his back with the sweet-faced canine on his chest, furiously licking his chin and nose – "and provide companionship. They don't judge. There are a lot of people on this world who don't have the chance to make a lot of human friends, or they choose not to. Pets are very important for their physical and mental well-being."

After a brief pause, Teal'c continued, "Some Goa'uld have what one may call 'pets.' However, servants or slaves tend these creatures at all times. Indeed, few of them fulfill the functions you have mentioned, DanielJackson. Most, however, are trained to maim or kill anyone who displeases its master."

Daniel gulped and hoped SG-1 would never run into that situation. "On Earth, some dogs serve exclusively as guards, Teal'c. And some do maim and kill. But a family dog can guard, too. It'll bark or growl or even attack to protect its owners."

The Jaffa cocked an eyebrow as the similarity between such a dog and O'Neill, even himself, dawned on him. "Indeed. This is a desirable function for a family in this dangerous galaxy."

It took a heartbeat before Daniel caught on to the parallel meaning of Teal'c statement. "Yes, it is, and two are better than one."

"With this I agree, DanielJackson."

Jack turned his head so the pup was forced to lick the side of his face. "Ya know, Teal'c, a very wise man once said, 'Until one has loved an animal, part of their soul remains unawakened.'"

Daniel stared at Jack in amazement, floored that the career military man would know of such a saying and cite it correctly.

"That is an interesting adage, O'Neill. Perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to test its veracity."

Both Daniel and Jack made mental notes about what type of animal could work as a pet for Teal'c. Then the dog whined and immediately because the center of Jack's attention once more.

Daniel and Teal'c watched Jack and the dog romp around until a rosy-cheeked Sam Carter and an animated Cassandra joined them.

"Swings are a lot of fun!" exclaimed Cassie. "We don't have them in . . . Toronto." Though it was getting easier to say, she looked at Sam for approval, which Sam gave her with a smile. "Teal'c, can you push me, please? Sam's tired."

The pooch left O'Neill's company to check out the excited girl. When it began sniffing her feet and legs, she giggled.

"I would be honored, Cassandra of –"

"Uh, Teal'c?" Jack warned softly.

Teal'c nodded once. "Of Canada, now of the United States of America."

"I _like_ the way that sounds!" Jack said. He held a hand out to Teal'c, who grasped it and helped his CO to stand. "Thanks, big guy." He handed the leash to the girl before brushing the dirt and grass from his clothes. "Cassie, your dog needs to have a name. Any ideas?"

She gave her new friends a doubtful look. "Uh . . . How about Dog?"

"Well, that works, but I was thinking maybe something with a little more . . . pizzazz."

"What is the meaning of 'pizzazz,' O'Neill?"

"Oomph. Juice. Panache. Charisma." Jack made several circles with his hand. "You know."

"I do not."

"So that liquid made from oranges I had this morning is also called 'pizzazz'?" asked Cassie.

Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Just my luck. Immigrant inquiries in stereo." He sighed. "Let's put the language lessons on hold, why don't we. The more pressing matter is naming the dog."

Daniel jumped in immediately. "You can always go with one of the most popular names, Cassie. There's, uh, Max. Buddy. Rocky. Duke. Sasha. Toby. Buster. Molly. Bear. Lucky. Sophie. Ginger. Sadie. Chloe. Sam." He grinned at Carter.

"Daniel."

"Uh, no, Jack, that's not one of them."

Jack rolled his eyes yet again and huffed. Cassie giggled.

"But 'Jack' is," Daniel finished. His smile was heavily smirky.

Jack shot a phony withering look at his friend, then turned to Cassie. "You could name a pet after a favorite person, like a relative or a close friend, or maybe call it a name that describes it or that is something it does a lot of. Like Blackie if it's black or . . . Puddles if it . . ." He hesitated as his face transformed into an I-can't-help-myself apology. ". . . pees. A lot. In the wrong places." He shrugged. When Daniel rolled his eyes, Jack countered with, "What?"

"Maybe another example would be better, Jack?"

Jack said, "Go for it, Daniel."

"Well, if the dog likes to run after cars or rabbits, you could call him Chase."

"I get the idea," replied Cassie.

"You can always go with the opposite of what the dog looks like or does."

"So . . . I could call a black dog White," Cassie said as a half-question.

"That's perfect, Cassie," said Sam. "Another good one for a black dog would be Snowball."

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. "That works with humans, too, but those are known as nicknames."

Jack leaned backwards and looked at the Jaffa. "Yeah, like we could call Teal'c here Tiny or . . . Curly."

Without missing a beat and with a stern expression on his face, Teal'c said, "O'Neill could be known as Smart."

In the surprised hush that followed, Daniel muttered just loud enough to be heard, "More like Smart_ass_."

"Beg pardon?" Jack asked, letting a false ire show in his tone. He ignored Carter's failed attempt at suppressing a laugh.

"You heard me, Jack. Smartass," Daniel said a bit more loudly.

"Little problem with that. Whenever I hear 'smartass,' Daniel, I think of you. Maybe we should call you that."

"That's fine by me, but only if we get to call you Jackass."

"Oh, so I remind you of a male donkey."

"Actually, no. You're more of a mule than a donkey."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Well, you must admit you're as _stubborn_ as a mule."

"Daniel, I'm simply a man of, um, strong convictions."

"So if you're not a mule, then you must be an ass."

"That's not what I said, Daniel. But _if_ I were any kind of ass, it would be _bad_."

As their verbal sparring continued, Cassie tugged on Sam's sleeve. "Sam, are Jack and Daniel like this all the time?"

Carter snickered. "No. It just seems like it."

"Oh. I see." Cassie turned her attention back to Daniel and Jack.

"Are not."

"Cease this conversation, as I grow weary of it," Teal'c snarled.

"Fine, fine. No need to get your panties in a knot, big guy."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "What are 'panties'?"

Neither Carter nor Cassie, who had recently learned the meaning of the word herself, could stifle a laugh. "They're . . . They're . . . I'll tell you later."

"I look forward to your explanation, CaptainCarter."

Sam glowered at O'Neill. "You owe me one."

Before Jack could say anything, Cassie said softly, "That man is as big as Teal'c. Does he come from, uh, Africa, too?" She nodded her head toward the very large man with long, stringy blond hair walking his very small hairless dog along the nearby paved path.

"Hulk Hogan on stilts _and_ steroids," Jack whispered as the tall man, wearing tight, beige-colored clothing to accentuate both his significant musculature and bronzed skin, approached the group. "Is that what I think it is?" He knew the answer, but just didn't believe it. He squinted to confirm he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

"It would appear to be a rat, O'Neill."

"No, Teal'c," said Daniel. "It's a dog. A tricolor, short-haired chihuahua, to be specific. Some people do consider them rat-like."

"Indeed. So there are different types of dogs."

"Yes, indeedy, Teal'c," replied Jack. "That dog is about as small as they come. Cassie, be sure you have a good hold on your puppy's leash. Don't want him exerting his superiority over that little one."

It was at that moment that both dogs spotted each other and eyed the other with cautious curiosity. A few paces closer, the chihuahua began yipping angrily and charging repeatedly despite its owner's attempts to rein it in. Cassie's dog, now whimpering, scampered behind Jack and trembled.

"Spike!" said the man. "Stop it!" With an apologetic smile, he said to SG-1 and Cassie, "Sorry about that. My dog gets a little aggressive sometimes. Usually, he's a cupcake." He picked up speed and practically had to drag Spike along with him.

"Cassie," Jack said to break the silence as they watched the man and his vocal canine fade in the distance, "your dog appears to be a scaredy cat. Maybe you should name him -"

"Jack!" The alarm in Sam and Daniel's simultaneous interruption evoked a look of disappointment on Jack's face.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, you two, I was _gonna_ say 'wussy.'"

The two scientists looked suitably chagrined. Daniel was about to voice an apology when Teal'c spoke up.

"I believe I may have a suitable name for your dog, Cassandra. Perhaps you could give your companion creature a name that is opposite of what it appears to be but one it could aspire to become in the future. Whether or not that should come to pass, the name itself would impart to those tempted to harm you that it is a fierce animal with which to reckon."

Jack looked warily at the Jaffa. "_Really_, Teal'c? For a little girl's pooch?"

Teal'c nodded once. Daniel and Sam stared at them, wondering if Jack had actually guessed what name Teal'c had come up with.

"So, Teal'c, what do you have in mind?" asked Sam.

The serious warrior regally tilted his head to one side. "'Killer.'"

~end~

Thanks to CoriKay for her always excellent beta.


End file.
